Life Was Hard
by Sheybunny
Summary: An introspective piece on Alistair's life from snarky beginning to hopefully happy end. First person!Alistair/FemPC!Cousland with utter and complete spoilers for the entire game. M for future chapter possibilities.
1. Life Was Hard

A Quick Author's Note: Hello!

This story is rather organically "stream of consciousness," so if you find that style annoying and rambly (two things I admit to being) then this is likely not for you. It begins in very short snippets, but the chapters will become longer as we go further along in the story; after all, you don't remember much from your childhood (with clarity at least) do you?

Please feel free to review, criticize, or flame so long as you do so intelligibly. "Sticks and stones" and all that.

A Disclaimer: Of course, I do not own these characters (though the Cousland in my story was poked and prodded in my character creator the first day we could download it!). Equally not mine is some of the dialogue which comes directly from the game itself, because it is truly what made me fall in love with this character – and all the others. I try to use the dialogue in a manner that reflects my respect for the people who spent many hours writing it, but please do take me to task if you find it jarring.

Thank you!

Part Two Note: In the course of editing and re-writing certain parts, I came to the beginning and decided to change the consistency of the first few chapters. Originally, the very beginning was incredibly short (500 words), essentially a drabble written while I should've been working (oops). It didn't end up matching what the story grew to, however, so I said: Begone, you blaggart! And thus, it was gone.

If only my taxes would take the same hint. SIGH. Without further ado or mention of filthy things like taxes, enjoy!

* * *

**Life was hard.**

Life was hard: children were not supposed to learn this fact until much later in their lives. Life was full of difficult choices and insurmountable odds. Impossibilities that rose before you as you watched in horror, unable to move, speak, react. Children were supposed to be protected from these truths and told little lies that made things better for a while. _Anything you dream of is possible if you try hard enough!_

In Ferelden, however, children did not receive these luxuries for many years. Children would grow up to become rebel kings and farmers-turned-generals or even Templars-turned-Grey Wardens. In Ferelden, children needed those harsh truths so that they could survive to understand them. They succeed if they try hard enough, but sometimes they fail even if they never give up, because that is just how the world works.

And so it was that my life began, not with a happy tale of a mother and father who loved me and told me little white lies, but of a father who had been urged to hand me over to one of his loyal nobles, Arl Eamon. While my half-brother lived with pomp and circumstance in the palace at Denerim, I lived first in Eamon's Redcliffe Castle with the maids and servants, comfortable and quiet, until Isolde came. After that, I was shoved off into the stables, an area less visible, less shameful for the new woman of the house.

Eamon's wife assumed that I was a threat to her home, which inevitably became true in the course of my life, when danger and necessity called for me to announce my true heritage to the entire nation. But she incorrectly assumed that I was Eamon's bastard child; I was a royal bastard, it turned out, not a noble one – how dare she underestimate me?!

I kid! True, my life was not peaches and cream for many years, but to spell it out as though it were a **dirge**? That's too dramatic, even for _me_.

My name is Alistair and my father was King Maric Theirin. My mother was a star-struck maid with whom he had an unfortunate dalliance, but I never met either of them; she died in childbirth and he never acknowledged that I ever existed; to me, at least.

My life is a culmination of failures, but it turns out that if you fail enough times…eventually you have to succeed at something. In my case, I succeeded at saving the world.

_Go figure_.

My very first failure, however, was in learning how to roll with the punches. Isolde demanded me cast from Redcliffe and Eamon's care by the age of ten. When I learned the truth of the situation, I lashed out in anger at the man I felt was betraying me; the haunting sound of my mother's amulet crashing, splintering against the stone castle wall is the sound that ended my childhood and any chance of believing those little lies people tell out of love.


	2. Life as a Templar in Training was Hard

**Life as a Templar-in-training was hard.**

Although life was a bit more comfortable without Isolde's cold presence controlling my destiny, the monastery was quite simply not for me. I was too bright and flamboyant for that quiet and grave place, needing to be acknowledged for what I made of myself instead of what people assumed I was. Unwanted.

At first, I hoped that they only knew of my status as Arl Eamon's ward who was a bastard of some unnamed important person. In time, however, those who had access to information from other sources learned of my parentage; there were plenty of third and fourth sons of various Arls and Teyrns in the Chantry where they could forge their own path and they learned the truth from their families.

What I truly wondered was who would bother telling the nobles, anyway? The King had never met me or deigned to notice me in any way that I knew. Did they all know because royal bastards could be considered heirs if something should happen– Maker forbid – to the true heirs? Definitely a good safety precaution, but if Maric or his lieutenants had ever met me, they would've known right away to get themselves a different bastard – the Chantry sisters bemoaned their fates over being stuck with me and my (hilarious, charming) greatly despised antics daily.

_I'll show you_, I thought to myself on a regular basis. _I'll show you all what I'm made of and then you won't care that I'm a bastard!_

Sadly, I wouldn't prove this until after I'd lost my adolescent ego. _Couldn't just give me break, Maker, could You?_

In addition to all the fun I had dealing with my peers, I hated the endless silence of the night emanating from the cold stone walls and the dull solemnity of my elders. The nicest thing I could say about them was that they didn't pretend to care about me at all. Well, the Revered Mother did care, but that's just what Revered Mothers **do**, so it changed nothing of my outlook on life.

I had no friends and, perversely, I missed the people who at least pretended to care about me. Even pretense was better than being so studiously ignored or looked-down upon. I even missed Isolde; at least her intense dislike of me meant that she cared that I existed, even if she would've preferred that I _didn't_.

I would've _gladly_ endured her disdain if it only meant that I could be back in Redcliffe, near Eamon. I looked up to him and respected him; I knew even as I pushed him away in anger that he cared. I pushed and pushed, hoping that he would see what the Chantry was doing to me, to see if he would prove just how much he cared about me. He did prove it to me, eventually, but it was many years later.

When he stopped visiting me, I gave up hope and turned blindly to my studies and training. Eamon didn't want a child who couldn't free himself, so he would get a fully-trained Templar, instead.


	3. Life during puberty was hard

**Life during puberty was **_**hard**_** in a Chantry-run establishment.**

As I grew older, I desperately wished that I could talk to the Arl, that I hadn't shoved him away so thoroughly. At least _he_ would understand the strange restlessness in my limbs and mind, and the bashful glances at giggling young women. He would understand just how frightening they had become, how utterly _confusing_. How my eyes suddenly found their forms intriguing and my dreams were plagued with ruminations on what the differences between girls and boys really were – other than the scariness factor, of course.

I also wished I weren't so bloody long-limbed; Templar training was hard enough without my arms and legs suddenly shooting out in all directions like branches on a tree blown about in the wind. I went from being an average fighter to being amazingly bad; the grizzled Templar who showed us how to use our wooden swords and shields shook his head every time I outgrew yet another set of practice armor. He seemed otherwise unfazed by my clumsiness, however, which was a relief.

Plenty of the other boys were going through the same thing, but that didn't mean that I was free from their mockery; I was still stuck between the social strata and any opportunity for insults was a _well-used _opportunity.

Because of that strange, indeterminable social status of mine, I never kissed a girl at that age, I never experimented. I felt awkward and unwanted; truly, I missed Redcliffe. I didn't have a father or a mother, but Arl Eamon was a wise man who would've been able to explain these budding feelings to me as the men and women around me who had taken vows could not.


	4. Life devoted to the Chantry was hard

**Life devoted to the Chantry was hard – and entirely not for me.**

I just couldn't understand the desire to _pray_ for hours. I could barely stay awake during the _short_ chants, never mind the longer ones, Maker forbid. If I had to do this for the rest of my life, I would rather kill myself. Or run away to make my own adventures, but I never saw myself as the hero in my dreams, so I shot that idea down quickly enough. I was always the witty sidekick, who helped the hero to save the day at the last minute and make some clever comment about their enemies in the process.

I knew that _everyone_ wanted to be a hero, but I thought that would be a lot of responsibility for someone who sometimes forgot which boot went on which foot. _Honestly_. Some people were just cut out to be amazing in a support role and my witty one-liners had been shined and polished for years now, so I knew I had the resume to back up my dreams there.

One thing my mind never truly decided was whether the Hero I dreamt of was a man or a woman. At night, it was usually a woman, but the heroic deeds were related more closely to the naughty stories the other boys bragged about rather than the manly deeds I helped perform during my lessons, in daydreams.

The daydreams I had when I should be memorizing the stages of Lyrium withdrawal, of course. Maybe I could get a hold of a ton of Lyrium and go batty – for real, not the kind of batty that I pretended to be to get out of advanced lessons in _boredom_ – and then I could be _**free**_.

But completely and irrevocably batshit crazy.

Tough choice, honestly.


	5. Life without a family was hard

**Life without a family was hard.**

I wanted nothing more than to grow old with little rascals all around me, begging me for my glorious tales of adventuring. Not that I had done any as of yet, but maybe I could if I became a full Templar! I was somewhere around twelve or fifteen and I finally had a goal. I surprised those old hags when I aced all my written tests with flying colors. I had never been stupid, just completely unmotivated.

The Revered Mother had looked suspiciously triumphant when she announced that I would be placed in more advanced lessons in the coming years. I realized then that I was a sort of prize there; a bastard son of the king who became a Templar was a very nice image for royalty and the Chantry in terms of possible donations. Knowing this actually made me admire her a bit more; she was a prickly woman, but brilliant and more than a little devious.

I figured out then, however, that she wouldn't let me out of her sight. I would live in the monastery or in the Circle tower until I died. I would never have a single adventure outside of stone walls in my life.

I was trapped. My goal had betrayed me; my theoretical stupidity had been my one possible savior. If I had failed the Templar training over and over again, eventually they would've had to release me, I supposed. I languished in self-doubt for years and although the looks from giggling girls were no longer scornful but slyly admiring, I ignored them all. They would only trap me behind these walls even further.

When Duncan came and watched the Tournament, I felt something within my heart cry out with pure _desire_. When the grizzled – and frankly, quite intimidating – Grey Warden looked at me, dark piercing gaze resting on my face and posture, I felt like I needed to prove myself. To show him that there were better fighters (for certain, as I preferred daydreams and debate to sparring with the egotistical maniacs that made up the other Templar recruits most of the time) but there was **no one** with more spirit here than I. Not to mention that Duncan looked like the perfect Hero for my Sidekickery. The man practically shouted, "I am a gruff man who requires an engaging, humorous foil. Inquire within for details."

I felt my nerves buzz throughout my entire body as I sparred against the other champions. I did not win all of the fights; I definitely didn't beat the top recruits. But I showed off the one thing I knew I could do: never give up. I mocked and I taunted and I laughed. I bowed mockingly to those who deserved it or respectfully to the same. I let everything I was shine through in those fights, win or lose.

All of the candidates stood together, breathless from our matches and from excitement, as we waited for Duncan's choice. As he stood before me, as he looked into my eyes, I knew I had done it. I was a failure to so many people, but to this man…I was _someone_ to be chosen out of a crowd. The Revered Mother hissed like a serpent woken from its slumber, but Duncan didn't back down.

Proving that test of Spirit to Duncan felt like the best day I had ever had in my life, up to that point. _It could only get better from here_, I decided.


	6. Life as a Grey Warden was hard

**Life as a Grey Warden was hard.**

But also exciting and short. I finally felt as though I fit in somewhere, even the Joining not so frightening in the face of my excitement, though we lost one of the recruits from my group. The man we lost had nowhere else to go and so we buried him as though he were one of us. There was respect from the Grey Wardens in all sacrifices, especially in the ones we couldn't have known.

The men could be as quiet as the Chantry halls, serious and deadly, but there was also laughter, drinking and **life**. I felt as though my past had served me well here; the men – even veterans with twenty years on me! – asking for my thoughts on dealing with the magic-using darkspawn. I felt warm and respected and finally – _Finally_! – wanted. I belonged.

I would defend my Brothers (and Sisters, if we'd had any) with my life and share with them my spirit. And Duncan – bless the Maker – had seen that need to belong, to give my heart to something…and had found me worthy. I would forever hold him in the highest esteem for being the first person to truly believe in me.

Even when they laughed at my antics, I never felt as though there was something malicious behind it. So I acted silly to make the men who sacrificed their longevity for vigilance laugh. To see the joy in the lives they were defending. And I knew that they loved me for it, just as I loved them.


	7. Life during a Blight was hard for anyone

**Life during a Blight was hard for anyone, but especially for a Grey Warden who was bastard half-brother to a king who liked swords.**

I had responsibilities at the camp in Ostagar, but I knew that Duncan was plotting ways to keep me out of the fighting and away from danger. I would have hated him for it if I didn't love the man as the only person who actually **cared** that I lived for more reasons than just the one birth defect. And at least my duties weren't complete bullshit; I had a Junior Warden with my group of recruits when we ventured off for darkspawn blood, so I knew it was an important tradition.

I also knew that there were other junior Wardens who could have done it, but who also weren't of Maric's bloodline. Good try at subtlety though, Duncan. Really. (No, I'm lying, that was **terrible**.)

So when Duncan came back from his final recruiting stint looking murderously, if silently, angry and sporting a blood-soaked recruit, I didn't ask questions. I continued across the bridge to find the Circle Mage I needed to confront as though I hadn't seen my Hero return, after seeing that expression. I could ask him what happened later when he had some time to rest from his clearly arduous journey. It seemed as though he hadn't managed to get a Mage recruit, though, which was a little disheartening. The Wardens could truly use more Mages in their ranks, as their healing and death-dealing capabilities were immensely helpful to the order.

I figured that the recruit must be from Highever, as that had been the last stop on Duncan's little tour of Ferelden, and I remember he sounded hopeful about one of the young Knights there, one of Teyrn Cousland's men. I remember seeing him and his family very briefly when I was a small child in Redcliffe Castle. Arl Eamon had spoken highly of him as a man of honor and surprisingly the same of his wife, who had been quite friendly to me. I recalled two children vaguely, but that was many years ago and my one hope was that the Couslands chose their knights as Eamon did, based on their honorable personalities.

Oh lovely. There was that mage, pacing about and glowering, and he looked like one snarky bugger if ever I had seen one – and I saw one every day in mirrors and other reflective surfaces, so I knew. "Haven't the Grey Wardens asked for enough of the Circle?" He even had one of those sneering holier-than-thou voices that reminded me oh so much of my years at the Chantry. Truly _lovely_.

"I simply came to deliver a message from the Revered Mother, ser mage. She desires your presence," I was really trying to be nice this time, I swear.

His eyes narrowed as the insult became clear to him, "What her Reverence desires is of no concern to me. I am busy helping the Grey Wardens by the King's orders, I might add."

"Should I have asked her to write a note?" Honestly, how was I at fault here? Don't shoot the messenger!

"Tell her I will not be harassed in this manner!"

I made sure not to roll my eyes, "Yes, I was harassing **you** by delivering a message."

"Your glibness does you no credit."

"Here I thought we were getting along so well! I was even going to name one of my children after you…the **grumpy** one."

"Enough! I will speak to the woman if I must. Get out of my way, fool," as I wasn't in his way as he stormed off, I found this a puzzling end to our otherwise _delightful_ conversation. Until I noticed that he was being stared down by a young woman in well-fitted armor. His arm fell back to his side, deciding that shoving her was probably not a wise choice.

I smiled ruefully at her, nodding my head slightly after our departed guest. "You know, one good thing about the Blight is how it brings people together."

Her decidedly unladylike snort surprised me, as did her dry response. "I know exactly what you mean."

"It's like a party! We can all stand in a circle and hold hands. **That** would give the darkspawn something to think about." I peered at her, curiously. "I don't recognize you, do I? Hopefully you're not another mage, come to turn me into a toad."

One eyebrow was raised in what I hoped was amusement when she answered, "My name is Aliara. You must be Alistair; Duncan told me to find you."

"Ahh, you must be Duncan's last recruit! I think I see the Cousland arms upon you now," I smiled, glad that I had kept up with the news, but it faded when her face went from guarded but amused to stony and still. "I'm one of the new Grey Wardens and I'll be helping you and the other two recruits with the Joining."

She nodded, head jerking down and back up in a stiff and rather painful looking motion. "It will be a pleasure to work with you. What can you tell me about the Grey Wardens and the Joining?"

Her manner was intense, but friendly, despite that moment of overwhelming coldness and I began to answer her seemingly endless questions as I searched her face for answers. She was rather lovely, I realized suddenly, not having noticed earlier (mostly because I was overjoyed to find someone with an actual sense of humor after Ser Grumpton). Her eyes were wide and vividly green which was charmingly unique considering the rest of her coloring; relatively average dark brown hair, cut short, and skin tanned darker than my own.

What struck me was how closely her eyes reminded me of Duncan's the first time we'd met. They were piercing, steady, and although much younger than my mentor's, I felt that same equanimity behind them. I hoped she would survive the Joining, because from her questions and responses, she seemed like an honorable person that I'd be glad to call a sister in arms. "You know, I wonder why there haven't been that many women as Wardens. And from the pictures I've seen, none of them ever as pretty as you."

Wow, how did that slip out? _Excellent work, mind, let us hit on the new recruit immediately_. She smirked and I prepared myself for mockery, "Perhaps we women are too smart for you?"

Ooh, she really did have a sense of humor. And she let that slip go! That was exciting! "Then what does that make you?"

"Incredibly unlucky," her tone was tart but her eyes cheerless, and her hand strayed to the pommel of her sword, as though it were some kind of lucky charm.

"Anyway, when you're ready to go, just tell me and lead on!" I didn't know exactly what had happened at Highever, but I wouldn't let any of the recruits feel too poorly on what could theoretically be their final day. Silliness was the key.

A ghost of a smile, but nothing more, damn. "Would it be alright if I cleaned up first, before the Joining and the battle? Some of my things are still a bit…messy." Considering that when I first caught sight of her I had thought she was some sort of walking bloodstain… an excellent idea, indeed.

"Of course. I'll just go round up the other two recruits and give you some time by the river. I'll come fetch you, too, in case you take too long!" I mock-scowled and shook my finger at her like an old biddy and her eyes lit up with laughter.

"Yes, of course, grandmother Alistair, I'll be sure to return quickly lest my ears be tugged," she curtsied gracefully, smirking as she trotted off.

I did as I'd said with a large grin, happy that at least one of the recruits responded well to my brand of silly. Daveth had been promising, but he was a bit too interested in sleeping with every woman that breathed to be a good fit and Ser Jory was…_boring_. A good man, by all means, but more than a little dull. _Duncan definitely chose well with the final recruit_, I decided, until Duncan pulled me aside to speak. There I learned that the recruit was the daughter of the slain Teyrn Cousland, my first thought rather uncharitable: _Oh great, another noble to look down on the bastard._ I felt terrible for thinking this, so when I learned that the only member left of her family was probably her – vicious **Mabari** – dog, I decided to try and cheer her up.

He looked so depressed about the fact that Teyrn Cousland had been betrayed, one of the few noblemen who understood duty and who respected the Grey Wardens, that I wanted to cheer him up first, though. "She said she needed to clean some of her things. Did you let her roll in the blood of her vanquished enemies as a dog treat?"

Whatever twinkle I'd managed to summon in Duncan's eyes went out, at that. He informed me, voice steely and filled with disapproval, that her father had bled to death and she had been forced to leave her mother to die with him in that pool of blood. The rest was from when she carried her five-year-old nephew to the small garden he liked best, the blood from his slit throat seeping insidiously even through the leather of her boots.

Hearing about the destruction of all I had ever dreamt of having made me want to seek her out more. I wouldn't say that I knew I would just be there if she needed to cry or whatever. I would put my best jokes aside for this recruit, who had lost much and might lose more before the week was out. Duncan must have seen my regret at the ill-made joke and sent me to fetch her as I'd promised with a gentle nod.

I found her sitting calmly on the edge of a ruined bridge, her chainmail and padded under-armor beside her, hair drenched and face scrubbed pink. She was still wearing a loose shirt and breeches, but they too were soaked. _She must be cold_, I thought, but even those clothes were ragged and the shirt had large splotches all about it, the color of rust.

A noblewoman's handkerchief laid on the palms of her hands, the crisp whiteness contrasting with her skin and the four dull red corners; the two white wings at the center seeming rude, even to me. It looked deliberate and my suspicions were confirmed when I watched her kiss each corner, reverently. She must not have had much time to mourn on the road with Duncan, at least not with complete privacy. I was an intruder; I could only see her profile, but I knew it was her very soul that was bared in this quiet place.

The stillness was broken as she began to fold the handkerchief so delicately that I sincerely wondered if she could be as fierce a warrior as Duncan had claimed, so refined were her movements. Then she paused, folded cloth held in mid-air, as though only just realizing that everything she had on was sodden, when she abruptly ripped her ruined shirt off and tucked the handkerchief into the – ahem – final undergarment that held her…womanly charms in place.

I had never actually seen that much naked woman before and, depressingly, she was still mostly dressed. From what I could see of her, her gaze was fixed straight ahead of her, fierce and cold, as she shredded the shirt into rough strips, useful as bandages maybe, and laid them out to dry in the sun next to her armor.

I panicked slightly when I didn't see any clean or dry clothes near her. Gentlemen were expected to always assist a lady, so I pulled my shirt off, hastily putting my mail back on – Ow, ow! Chest hair! – and approached her, wordlessly, arm extended and shirt in hand, eyes averted politely.

When I was still standing there for a minute or so, I dared to look. The woman was looking directly at my face, a bemused glint in her eyes –same color as the grass in the valleys around Redcliffe – and the corners of her mouth went up as I finally noticed her gaze. She nodded respectfully and thanked me, her voice strong but subdued, as though this situation was an everyday occurrence. Or maybe she was jut used to men like me, who startled as easily around women (especially half-naked ones) as rabbits around wolves. She pulled the shirt on without a shred of shame and I very valiantly looked away, though the smooth ripple of muscle under tanned skin fascinated me. _Were noblewomen encouraged to go out in the sun these days? _I wondered.

Her amused answer, the low chuckle, startled me – "I said that out loud? Oh, I'm sorry!" - but I liked her better for her answer.

"Only the noblewomen who don't think so highly of themselves."

I would always remember the muted sadness in her eyes, the slope of her shoulders, even as I saw that first true, if small smile. The quiet around us in the ruins and the quiet between us as we walked to Duncan's camp didn't bother me as it once might have, in the Chantry. I only knew that the quiet was acceptable because I had given her some tiny bit of laughter in the face of so much grief.


	8. Life was getting harder

**Life was hard.**

I had learned this lesson early, but it seems that if a lesson was worth learning once, you could learn it again. But worse. _So much worse_.

Duncan. My Brothers. My half-brother. Two of the recruits.

It was only me and the green-eyed woman who was so damnably quiet that I wanted to scream as I had when I was a young boy new to the monastery.

Aliara was tougher than I was; I had seen that for myself up in the tower. There was no room for fear in her expression as she rushed the Ogre at the very top, our last obstacle, as though it were just any old darkspawn. Even when it grabbed her and began to shake her like a child's well-loved and oft-abused toy, she never faltered, commanding me to attempt some tricky shield maneuvers and for the mage to heal her as she couldn't reach her potions. Her plan of having me stun the beast to cause its grip to slacken worked, but I had no idea that she – that **anyone** – could land like that; tossed in the air, but landing as though it had been her idea in the first place.

My mind thought, as she yelled and pushed me behind her when the ambush came, that while Duncan was my male Hero, maybe _she_ was my female Hero. The next thought had been horror as she used her shield to protect me, leaving her open to all of the arrows flying at us. My terrified yell was lost beneath a roar so loud it shook my bones and loosened the mortar, which knocked me very rudely straight to unconsciousness.

I awoke, yelling her name again, but only saw too much disturbingly pale, voluptuous curves instead of green eyes and steely determination. My next yell was because that _harpy_ was touching me – _**eurgh**_ – a cruel smirk making the shadows of her pointed face seem gaunt as she rubbed herself indecently against me, watching my discomfort with unholy glee. Until Flemeth dryly suggested that Morrigan check on their more severely wounded patient.

I felt relief until I made the terrible choice of looking at Flemeth's leathery face, eyes too bright as she watched me, looking at me as though I were some worthless bug. She suggested that I get dressed and go outside, that my lady was to awaken soon. I made no smart-arsed comment to her, realizing that my "lady" had avoided angering her earlier for good reason. I was trained to feel maleficar and Flemeth felt like the worst there ever was. I was glad that my fellow Warden had taken charge in the forest before, not letting me get us all killed.

Like Duncan. Oh, Duncan.

Flemeth told me what had happened as I got dressed, making the act of putting my armor on a pain that would never heal. I remembered every piece that I had upgraded with Duncan's approval and pride, his family arms on some of those pieces. His presence carved on my very existence.

Maker, if this was what losing family felt like – family for only six months – I wondered how she could stay so quiet, how she wasn't howling her rage and need for vengeance to the moon. I wished I could find Duncan's body, bury it in a place he loved, a place worthy of his remains. Anywhere other than the cruel battlefield that took him from me.

My thoughts were dark as I felt her walk up behind me. I stood staring, unseeing, at the swamp's edge and turned at her question, "Are you alright?" not surprised to find her looking fierce and determined even with a bulky bandage wrapped around her shoulder, as though it were the only thing holding her arm on.

I admired the strength that emanated from within her; I wanted it for my own. We talked of what had happened and as a sob clawed at my throat, I saw Aliara's strength falter – only a moment – and I realized that dying in the Joining might have been more merciful than losing the people who had welcomed her into their midst after losing all she had ever known and loved. The naked agony in her eyes and the creases around her lovely mouth caused me to lose what dignity I had left; tears flowed as the closeness I had with Duncan tumbled as ungainly words out of my mouth.

Horrified, I realized – _again_ – how much more she had lost than I and I began to apologize, all fumbling words and mad hand motions, when her composed presence registered in my mind, her face close, agony still lurking there but with strength renewed, her hands gripping my upper arms as she told me verbally and with those eyes: _I understand. I'm here. "_It isn't great, but we are **Wardens** and we can make things **right**."

That strength in her – was it the need for revenge? I knew that was all that kept me from curling up in a ball, crying out for my lost father. But I watched her deal with Morrigan, deal with me, and I knew that vengeance wasn't keeping her upright, though it sometimes made her grim, stony, as if blood was the only currency she would accept. When I saw that look in her eyes – those beautiful expressive eyes – a thrill ran up my spine. She had compassion in spades, but those who hurt others would never see her mercy and my soul crowed exultantly as she decimated the bandits who threatened the already-beleaguered Lothering. I saw that Morrigan eyed Aliara with open admiration for her firm convictions, even if she was against them.

I didn't like that Morrigan could summon a smirk to Aliara's face as often as I could. I hated the pointedly smug glances that Morrigan would give me behind my Hero's back, the "I won, nyah nyah," making me feel like we were siblings squabbling for our parent's love and approval.

I only felt worse when she took Leliana and then Sten in, however.

Leliana was more traditionally gorgeous than the other two women; my Hero probably too tough and steely for most men to feel comfortable, while Morrigan was all exotic exhibitionist. Leliana saw the strength of character in my fellow Warden as soon as we entered that run-down tavern, though, and I _hated_ it. How the bard's eyes brightened as she strode forward to welcome us, interrupted by those **louts** who dared to threaten us!

I made some quip about crazies as Aliara invited the thieving wench along. They were fast friends which would have made me feel terrible except that Morrigan looked just as put out by it as I.

Actually, sharing any kind of emotional connection with Morrigan? That's enough to make me feel ill. Eurgh.

Sten was when I started to sweat. Aliara wanted a Qunari to join us? Fierce warriors and this one a **murderer**? Great. She wouldn't want me around. I was to see action only from the campfire. I was the failed Templar and the only Warden – official Warden and not newbie – to be turned away from the battlefield. Why would she bother taking me with her when she could have that beast of a man?

But she politely asked him to begin setting up a campsite for us all while we finished up what we could at that doomed town. I knew I was looking at her with some dumbfounded, incredulous face, but all she did was smile, the sadness banished from her eyes for a moment, and grip my shoulder. _We're in this together_, it meant. "I won't cast you aside," Aliara promised. "We're in this thing together."

Morrigan made some asinine comment comparing my abilities to Sten's, but I no longer worried. I had her promise and smile. They were what I needed most in those dark times. I found a rose in that place, the warmth from her hand dissipating slowly from my shoulder as I bent down to gently pluck it from the bush.

I would only realize how hard and how quickly I'd fallen when we met Zevran. _Grrrrrrr_.


	9. Life was hard when you fell in love

Author's Note: Hello again!

I just wanted to say: holy crap! I posted a few bits of this before work today (I work an odd shift) and I've come back to a rather full email inbox. Wow! I nearly wet my pants, people. Thank you so much.

I'd also like to thank the two people who reviewed because your positivity really made my day! Yay!

I have far more of this already written out (you can head to my profile for the reason why and to laugh at me, in fact), I just have to split it all up and upload it, so I will certainly get to work on that! I just tend to edit (over and over again) even as I'm supposed to be not-editing. I blame the obsessive compulsiveness.

To all you lurkers out there: you're officially creeping me out. As a fellow lurker, **_I'm watching you!_**

* * *

**Life was hard when you were in love, a Grey Warden, a failed Templar, a bastard son, and thankfully past pubescence.**

Maker, thanks for the small things, at least. I knew I was handsome enough and no longer physically awkward, only **mentally**. Which is honestly so much worse. Aliara never insulted me when I told her – fumbling, awkward – how grateful I was that she was **her** – I never said Hero out loud, how embarrassing that would be?! – that out of all the losses we'd taken, at least I had gained **her**. She smiled so brightly that I forgot to look away and stared outright, all other words falling from my mind, as she replied, "I feel the same way."

As if she had ever been so awkward in her **life**. I imagine she grew as strong and beautiful and quiet as she did, not like the rest of us, but as a flower grows from bud to bloom – it was her destiny to be as she was and she spent no time on awkwardness.

I, on the other hand, spent **all** my time on awkwardness. I felt like the gawky boy amongst the giggling girls again – except it wasn't capriciousness that fueled his awkwardness, but honest affection and camaraderie, **understanding**. Aliara was driving me crazy by being absolutely natural, beautiful, and serenely warm to me. She never openly favored me, but she looked out for me, asked my opinion before those of the others, and teased me gently, with her mouth lightly quirked to the side, a dimple that seemed only for me.

I was confoundedly smitten with her.

It didn't help when she invited Wynne to join – though I did _love_ losing Morrigan in our small traveling party, my Hero having quietly ordered her to protect the camp with Sten. I _may _have stuck my tongue out at that haughty bitch, which made my fellow Warden's eyebrow rise and eyes sparkle with laughter.

Wynne, however, loved to tease me. Well, not right out the door, but _still_. The Circle was our first stop, as they seemed like one of the most powerful allies to have in our fight. So Wynne was always teasing me near my lady, who was either quite absorbed in our surroundings – which made sense, considering we were, oh, I don't know, _fighting for our __**lives**_ – or just very polite, to pretend she hadn't heard Wynne ratting me out, er…_accusing_ me of staring at Aliara's…hindquarters. The **nerve**.

Once Wynne started, Leliana got in on it. I was outnumbered by feminine wiles and I couldn't win! Aliara never teased me about what they said, only giving me a gentle smile when we spoke, encouraging me to spill my guts out to her.

Which I _always_ did, feeling distraught about venting only my pain and frustration when I just wanted to have a quality discussion with her. She always waved off my apologies, however, and offered up her own feelings, though with less uncertainty and flair than I. "I'm nervous," she admitted one night as we prepared for our next destination. "Am I doing the right thing, bringing us to all of these places in the right order and solving everyone's problems? Is that really neutrality? What would the other Grey Wardens say if they saw us now?"

I scoffed and then flailed, verbally and physically, when I saw her brief wounded look. "The Grey Wardens would undoubtedly be ridiculously proud of us; you for getting things done and me for being so witty and helpful." She punched my shoulder lightly with a laugh as I continued to speak, "I just can't imagine you being nervous. You always look as though the world changes its path just because you told it you wanted to go a different direction. I mean, that you're so certain about everything and beauti-"

I stopped, mouth still open, and she had the loveliest blush I had ever seen. My face flushed in two parts sympathy and mortification until her hand lightly brushed my arm, trailing down in a gentle caress, and she said, "Thank you, Alistair." Two dimples.

I was a goner. Two dimples were my point of no return. I was hers as strongly as Andraste was the Maker's. Well, okay, that's _a bit_ of an exaggeration, I suppose, but that was the turning point for me, where my admiration for her went from finally being understood and accepted to a need to forever be at her side.

The problem? I had no idea how to tell her this without seeming desperate, creepy, or a combination of the two.


	10. Life was full of assassins and trees

**Life was hard when someone actually felt threatened enough by you to send half-assed assassins to try and kill you with giant logs.**

"It's obviously a trap," I sighed as the frantic woman tried to lead us to her "overrun wagon."

Aliara snorted. "No kidding. She's a terrible actress. Whoever hired her should try and get their money back."

"I bet I would've been much more convincing, if I were a scary bandit actor," I joked. "And better looking in a dress, of course. You would've fallen for it immediately, I know."

She turned to me, grinning deviously, "You talk about wearing dresses a lot: is this some secret Templar fetish I should know about before we keep going? Maybe we could stop by a dressmaker's shop in Denerim and get you a nice lacey number?"

I couldn't stop myself from laughing, long and hard, at that one. Leliana was giggling as well, offering her services in finding me a dress, though Wynne responded differently. "Children, shut up. If this is truly an ambush, don't you think we should treat it with some sort of seriousness? I will not save your lives if you plan on giggling like schoolgirls the entire fight!"

I pouted, having quickly learned that Wynne was another sucker for my kicked-puppy face: "You really wouldn't try to save me? Or the cute Leliana, who would never hurt a fly unless it paid her well enough?"

"Hey!" Leliana yelled and I thought it was because of my insult, but the increasingly loud sound of groaning wood convinced me to duck and roll, watching our leader leap forward and tumble much more gracefully. Wynne brushed bits of wood from her robes as she grumbled to herself, but the three of us were drawing our weapons out, catching sight of archers on top of the hills surrounding us.

The woman who had led us here to die, presumably, turned around and smirked at us as an androgynously attractive Elven man sauntered smoothly to her side. With only a quick hand motion from him, they attacked.

All joking aside, I made a beeline for the woman, who was clearly an apostate of some kind, while Aliara taunted the swarm of men with daggers to let me get through them, including the leader of their group, that Elf.

"Leliana, focus on the mage with Alistair, then archers," she bellowed, somewhere behind me. "Wynne, protective ward on me now!"

I knew that Leliana was following orders, as the mage was pinned down by an arrow before my very eyes, gasping in pain as I cut her down swiftly. I moved on to knock some of the men flanking my lady by surprise, knocking one over the head with the pommel of my sword and another down onto the ground with my shield. Aliara had locked blades with the leader, who had a disturbingly seductive cast to his face for someone who was trying to kill her. _Creepy_.

The perversions some people enjoy surprises me still.

Dispatching the group of assassins wasn't an overly difficult fight, but definitely a tiring one. Wynne rested against the fallen tree, wiping the sweat from her forehead, while Leliana disarmed any traps we might stumble on later. Well, that _I_ might stumble over. Stupid rogue-y traps!

I looked around for my fellow Grey Warden as I emptied my waterskin. Surprisingly, she was kneeling next to the Elf with something in her hand, tilting his head up with the other. "By the Maker, what are you doing?" I demanded.

Aliara didn't bother to glance up, watching the killer's face as his eyes began to flutter open. "I want some answers and this man seems to be the leader, so I'll get them from him."

"So you want to keep the man who just tried to **kill us **alive?" Dropped on her head as a child, _clearly._ "What a great plan!"

With narrowed eyes, she stood up and told me in a voice that would tolerate no more opposition, "Alistair, we cannot get answers from a dead man. If he answers us and we find no reason to keep him alive after, we may kill him. Until then, however, you will stay your hand. Do you agree?"

I nodded reluctantly, feeling a bit foolish at having questioned her but still unhappy with this situation. "Yes, my lady."

She gritted her teeth and I smirked, knowing she disliked that title. Our brief spat was interrupted by coughing, however. The Elf had sat up and was looking about him, impassive except for a sigh. "It seems that I have failed, yet I am still alive." _Good job, Mister Obvious, glad our __**trying to kill you**__ didn't leave you as eloquent as Sandal_. "I assume that means I am to be interrogated? Let me make it easier on you and just tell you what you want."

"Oh, yes, let's trust the assassin man to tell us the truth," I muttered under my breath, but from the tightened grip on her sword pommel, I knew she'd heard me.

"Tell me then, who sent you?" Aliara asked, voice more polite than I thought appropriate, given the circumstances.

The man looked at her, openly surprised for a moment at her manner, before smiling winningly at her. "Ah yes, my beautiful opponent. It is a nice surprise to walk from death's door and see your remarkable face instead," he stretched languidly and I wondered if I could somehow trip and _stab_ him a little. "The man who paid the Crows to send their assassin was from Denerim. I think his name was Loghain?"

I swore, perversely glad to see our leader tense up at the name. "Loghain…somehow, that doesn't surprise me," she growled. I was shaken from my intense anger by the unsettling look that the assassin was giving Aliara, but she clearly didn't notice it, as she continued with her questioning. "Who or what are these Crows that you mentioned?"

Leliana interjected, "They are a famous group of assassins from Antiva. Greatly feared and respected, their reputation alone keeps other countries from invading! They are also quite expensive, so Loghain truly must have wanted you and Alistair out of the picture. We should be more wary."

I found her warning sweet, but rather unnecessary. He had already tried to kill us once at the top of the Tower of Ishal; I hadn't expected him to stop there and let us roam the world to drink tea and be on our merry way!

"Thank you, Leliana," our leader said just as the assassin began, "Oh, I wasn't aware that such _loveliness_ existed in adventurers these days."

"Right. Can we kill him now please?" Leliana asked dryly. Funny that the **bard** never liked flattery much, but it was more proof that all women are just plain _confusing_.

Aliara sighed, shaking her head in exasperation, but was unable to ask another question, as the assassin was speaking again, silky voice and exotic accent starting to annoy me. "My name is Zevran Arainai and to be completely honest, I was never given much of a choice regarding joining the Crows. The only way out, however," I saw the gleam in his eyes and my stomach sank, "is to sign up with someone they can't touch. So…"

"…you want to join us. Interesting," my lady's wry tone made me feel a bit better, as did her next question. "You must think me royally stupid. What exactly would keep you from trying to slay us as we slept?"

Zevran snorted delicately, waving his hand in front of him as though he could wave her accusations away as easily. "You defeated me and over ten men with little trouble. So no, I do not think you stupid, but I do think you're royally tough to kill. And utterly _**gorgeous**_. Not that you'll respond to simple flattery," he soothed, eyes twinkling wickedly, "But there are worse things in life than serving the whims of a deadly sex goddess." He sealed that horrifying statement with a lewd wink.

Does that even work on women?! _Oh yes, you were amazing in battle when I tried to kill you, now I can't wait to molest you in your sleep!_ Who would fall for that?!

Apparently, **she** would. "How exactly would you be of help to us, Zevran?"

"You saw my combat abilities, of course, and know that I am much better when unseen and behind my foe," he didn't hesitate to list his resume, hitting that checklist of useful qualities that made my stomach sink even further. "I could help you to recognize other attempts on your life as well as help develop strategies. I could also stand around and look pretty, if you prefer. Warm your bed? Fend off unwanted suitors? No?" He was practically purring as he propositioned her. _Creepy_.

"No," her voice was firm, but amused.

"Aw, that is too bad," oh no, he has a pout, too?! I didn't want competition for my one great weapon against these women! "But hopefully my other training appeals to your quest, yes?" He sounded…hopeful, but I truly didn't want to trust him. A-s-s-a-s-s-i-n, people!

We waited in silence as she deliberated, even Zevran quiet as she stared intently at him, reading him as intently as she had done with me. "Very well, Zevran. It will be good to have a person of your…_skills_ to aid us."

"Whoa, whoa!" I interrupted, knowing exactly what he wanted and still not happy with it - not **one bit**. "We're taking the assassin with us now?!"

Aliara's jaw clenched for a minute before answering, "Alistair, there's a _Blight_, Loghain is trying to kill us, and we need all the help we can get. **Yes**, I am taking the assassin with us. Maybe he can help warn us of any future assassination plots against our lives. We don't have the luxury of ignoring any help we can take and you **know** it."

"Well, if ever there was a sign of desperation, this is it," I groaned.

She ignored me as she reached down to help Zevran up, gripping his forearm with one hand and steadying him with the other as he stumbled. _Faked_ a stumble, it was clear to me, at least, because his eyes were wide and mockingly innocent as he stood close to our leader, leaning on her piteously as Wynne healed his wounds.

"I vow to you now," Zevran fell gracefully to one knee, still holding one of her hands. I felt steam pouring out of my ears. "I hereby pledge my oath of loyalty to you, Grey Warden. I am your man, without reservation." He brought her hand to his lips and gave her a smoldering look from under his long girly eyelashes, "This I swear."

He kissed her hand, taking far too long with the whole thing, but I wouldn't have made a noise that he later said resembled a tea kettle whistle if I hadn't noticed **her** response to it: she _**blushed**_. It spread over her cheeks like a plague and I wanted to punch something - **hard**.

_Great, _I thought. _Now we have a pet assassin who is already undressing her with his eyes and hitting on her not __**two seconds **__after trying to kill us all. And he can make her __**blush.**__ Damnit!_

I was **so** going to keep watch over her tent that night. He could keep his damn sex goddess lines to himself!


	11. You cant spell assassin without Sass

***

Our trip to the tiny village of Honnleath was unsurprisingly full of darkspawn and the saving of innocent people. After clearing the beasts out of the village and saving the little girl from the Desire demon, we took a well-deserved break back at camp. It seemed that everywhere we went led to our camps becoming larger and more elaborate; now we had a megalomaniac golem and horny assassin at our campfire, in addition to the loopy bard, the bitchy witch, the slobbering beast, the man who was as stony and cold as our golem, and the evil old woman. Oh yes, we mustn't forget the two dwarves who take our extra goods with smiles on their faces – one greedy, the other just daft.

Crowded, to say the least. Our meals were starting to resemble feasts and trying to get a quiet moment to yourself was _impossible_. Taking baths required a schedule now, so that the men and women could preserve whatever modesty they had. Well, what modesty **some** of us had. Zevran looked as though he'd be willing to drop his trousers right there at the campfire, for Maker's sake! And Morrigan barely wore clothes as it was, ew.

There was a bonus to having so many people about, though; shorter watch hours at night!

But this was the first night that we would share with Zevran and Shale, and we were all determined to study our new companions. I, in particular, wanted to know how Zevran learned to talk like women spontaneously shed their panties for him all the time. It was disconcerting and I wanted to learn.

I mean, learn **how** and **why** he did it, so that I could protect my lady's virtue. Yes. _That's it_.

Anyway. Where was I? Oh, yes.

Morrigan and Wynne had taken over dinner preparations tonight, refusing to let me help them with the food because of what I'd prepared last week. "You didn't enjoy the stew I made?" I asked sadly, wondering if pouting would work on Morrigan or just make her hex my socks again.

The disgust on their faces was hilariously similar, despite their usual contempt for one another. "The…stew, as you called it, was so appalling that I would rather eat roasted darkspawn than allow you to massacre another meal ever again!" Morrigan's voice was sharp but Wynne was nodding vigorously in agreement.

"Yes, Sten managed to fish us a lovely meal and what you made out of it…" Wynne paused, struggling to find the proper wording, "It was the most frightful thing I've ever tasted! Did the Templars teach you to cook? If so, I may need to warn Irving to watch out for attempts on his life through good deeds."

Now I was pouting, completely involuntarily, when another smart-ass decided to chip in. "Ladies, I would certainly desire to help in the production of dinner if you wish to relax," Zevran's silky tone made my ears burn in anger. "I was trained to cook by the Antivan whores who raised me; cooking is just one of my many…talents that you might wish to _taste_."

The look on their faces made me crow with laughter as they threatened him with wooden spoons and frozen bits of his anatomy. He winked at me as we sat on one of the logs surrounding the fire. "I know that you are unhappy with our lovely leader for taking me in, ser knight," he began, blunt, but with a friendly tone that made me instantly suspicious, "but I hope that we can work together to defeat these intimidating women together."

"Yes, who cares about Loghain or the Blight?" I smirked. "These women are much more of a threat on our lives than either of those!"

Wynne sniffed loudly, her chin held high as she glared down at us, while Morrigan flicked hot water at us both. "You men could not defeat us, even were we asleep," she sneered, "though I heard 'tis how you prefer to take out your enemies, Crow."

Zevran's smile was easy, but I could see the sharpness in his face, around his eyes, as he answered her, "Dear beautiful woman, I do not prefer to take my enemies out while they sleep, I prefer to take them to my bed first and then end their lives quickly after I've brought them pleasure. A wonderful way to die, no?" He stretched, resembling a cat, smug and superior over silencing us all with that one statement, and leaned back, arms behind his head.

"I wonder then, Zevran, why you chose to attack us out in the open rather than finding a way into my tent?" Aliara's voice was surprisingly close behind us and all four of us jumped, even Zevran, startled by her quiet entrance. I turned to see her leaning on a nearby tree, hair wet and a few stray water droplets sliding down the length of her neck to fall onto her clean white shirt.

I was unable to look away from the wet tendrils of hair sticking to that neck, outlining the sharp curve of her jaw. Her eyes were shadowed, but the corners of her mouth were turned up slightly, one dimple peeking out at us. I saw a glint at her throat; the fire's light glancing off the amulet I had given her after the Joining and my heart beat faster knowing she wore it even as she bathed.

Zevran had stood up and bowed to her while I stared, gracefully gesturing to the log we had been sharing as though it were some fancy throne. "My lady, would you join us by the fire to dry yourself? We were just discussing meals and pleasure and I'm sure that we would all _love_ your input," the purr that his voice took on when he spoke to her made my blood pressure spike. I had almost enjoyed siding with him against those two evil women, but his obvious attraction to my lady made me violently jealous.

My mind rang with the implications of that thought. _Jealous._

I was **jealous.**

I no longer thought of her merely as the only Grey Warden comrade I had, no longer the only person who knew intimately of Loghain's betrayal and of the huge loss I'd taken at Ostagar. She was all of that and more; she was undoubtedly the Hero I'd always wanted to serve, who protected the weak and watched my back as I watched hers. But still, she was _**more**_: she was beautiful and traded witticisms with me and somehow I had found myself drawn in by her inner strength and nobility more every day.

I…**cared** about her. I loved her.

She stood before me, dressed casually, hair wet and unkempt, none of the fancy clothes and makeup that I'm sure she had been raised to use in her past. Her cheeks were pink from the fire and her hands were as rough as mine from years of twirling blades and bashing shields. She couldn't compete with Morrigan's lush upper body, but her body was lean and muscled instead, and that appealed to me so much more that it was distracting.

It was even more distracting when I realized that she had taken Zevran up on his offer and was now sitting next to me. She smiled warmly at me when I welcomed her quietly. "Nice to see that you're back here in Ferelden with us, Alistair. Maker only knows how far away you were just now in your mind."

Her teasing was gentle, but I still flushed, hoping she couldn't actually read my mind as I sometimes suspected. "Ah, yes, Ferelden is a wonderful place," Zevran said breezily. "Beautiful women, handsome knights, and hot stews. It almost makes up for the wet dog smell that seems to pervade every town and city." He looked thoughtfully at the Mabari growling at him before adding, "Almost."

I grinned, finally gaining back control of my mouth. "Careful or we'll be stuck having Crow stew for a week, at least. That Mabari knows full well when we call him stinky, don't you, boy?" I scratched him behind the ears, my pulse beating quicker when Aliara reached over to pet him beneath his snout, murmuring words of affection to him.

I could smell the soap she'd used in her hair and I hoped beyond hope that none of the others around the fire would notice me sniffing her as surely as her war hound did. I caught the evil light in their eyes as I looked up and wondered what it would cost me to get them to shut up. Chances are it would be my _**soul**_ or the very last of my cheese.

"I wonder, Alistair, how often in your Templar training you had a woman leaning over your lap. Do they train the Templars to spank you mages when you're bad, Wynne?" Morrigan's voice was a poor rendition of innocence, but Wynne chuckled nonetheless.

"Oh no, that's only if we've been very _good_," she demurred wickedly.

Zevran looked excited at that, "And just how can I become a Templar? I am quite good at spanking and taking beautiful women over my knee, so I have some qualifications, I am certain!"

I wasn't sure which of them I wanted to strangle first as my fellow Warden and victim of teasing practically leapt off of the log, nearly catching my chin in her haste with the back of her head. She laughed weakly, nervously brushing some dirt off of the back of her breeches, and I looked up at her with a lopsided smile. "This is what happens when you recruit from the bottom of the barrel, I'm afraid. Witches, kooks, and perverts."

Her laughter at that comment made me feel more at ease. If only she'd sit back down! "Yes, yes, you told me so, and all that," she raised a hand dramatically to her forehead, "I could have had pets instead, but no-o-o!"

"Oh, but you most certainly have pets here, lovely Warden," Zevran purred ridiculously. "I, in fact, will let you pet me whenever and _wherever_ you want…"

"Hey!" I growled, not liking how she flushed again. "Try to have some respect for our lady, you…you harlot!"

One of his eyebrows rose and I knew that he was leading me into another trap, but I couldn't resist and watch him flirt with her. "Oh? How am I disrespecting her by telling her she can have her way with me whenever she desires? I can't imagine that you have offered the same. So who is the one being rude now, hmm?" His smirk was making me consider tripping him _into the fire_.

I knew I was redder than the flames I was sitting near, but I couldn't let him keep getting the upper hand with his perverse offers! "I think she has more on her mind than simple desires and I've offered all of the advice and help I can," I glared at him, "And I think I haven't tried assassinating her in the past month or two, either, **imagine that**!"

"Ah, maybe you should try it," he added slyly, "Fighting you, my dear lady, was a wonderfully distracting exertion. You are quite lovely when you're so focused on an enemy, precise and deadly." He sighed dreamily and I had to take several deep breaths to steady myself.

"Boys," Wynne said imperiously, "I do believe that if you wish to pee on something, there are many trees nearby you can use instead of our brave Warden. Do shut up or go find your tree."

I nodded, angry and distracted, and stood from the bench with a last pat to the dog. "I'm going to wash some of my clothes," I muttered, trying to avoid looking directly at Aliara as she stood silently by the tree she'd leaned against earlier.

I heard Zevran's seductive laughter as I gathered my laundry and stomped off to the nearby creek. What he laughed at or who he laughed with was none of my concern! She could enjoy his laugh all she wanted and his stupid seducer-jerk jokes. Why should I care if she found an experienced man like him more intriguing than a virgin _failure_ like me? At least I'd be able to focus on the task at hand better if I wasn't busy mooning over her and her dimples and her damn caring. I could be her friend; I was already her friend! She was my friend and my closest comrade – I couldn't live without that, without her presence in my life, keeping me sane after losing Duncan.

Choosing Zevran to warm her bed wouldn't make any of those things less true, so I might as well get used to the idea now. I was mechanically scrubbing my dirty clothes in the brook, splashing myself until it was pointless to keep my current shirt on. I took it off, tossing it into the pile, and nearly fell face first into the water when I heard a small noise behind me.

"Uh, hi there," I stuttered, finding the subject of my thoughts behind me. Her hair was slightly drier now, the ends curling in towards her neck, and I couldn't help but stare again. Her eyes were lovely in the fading light, but I wasn't sure what her expression was supposed to be telling me. "I wish I was as good at reading people as you are," I filled the silence between us with a rueful desire I'd held for some time now. "Living in the monastery for so long, I think I just learned that everyone's got to mock me at some point."

I gave into my nervous habit and ran a hand through my hair, scratching the back of my head, and I was surprised to see a blush spread over her cheeks. _Oh no,_ I thought, _was I indecent? A little soggy, but probably not indecent. This wasn't one of those dreams where I was fighting darkspawn without any pants on, after all._

Aliara shook her head quickly and knelt beside my pile of drying clothes. "I don't know why anyone would mock you without cause or why you and Morrigan have to be so…snarky to each other," she sighed, "but I hope you know that I will never insult you, Alistair. I'm sorry you don't like Zevran, I know he attacked us, but I think he will be true to his word." She bit her lip and I really had to concentrate to ignore that. "Please trust me. If he turns on us, you can say, 'I told you so,' as often as you want and whatever punishment you see fit, okay?"

Her smile was tremulous and hopeful; I was stunned. "Of course I trust you, Aliara. I trust you with my life; you must know that by now." I was curious about something, though, so I couldn't let her relieved smile distract me. "But why did you come to ask me that? I mean, not that I mind of course, it's really…nice of you to do that," I faltered, but kept on, scratching my head again. "What I mean is: why do you care if Morrigan and I are snarky or if I like Zevran? Do you…do you care if they like me?"

I didn't know what inside me needed the answer to that question, but it was probably the same voice that had wailed at the thought of her blushing when Zevran kissed her hand. The part of me I was trying so hard to shut up. She was washing one of my shirts as I asked and I saw her scrub it a little harder than necessary, the blush still settled on her cheekbones. "You are the only person I trust completely, Alistair," her voice was quiet and sad and I almost wished that I hadn't asked, even as my heart soared. "I…I lost a lot when Duncan saved me in Highever and then I lost his guidance soon after that. You were the only person left that knew him, knew what Loghain had done, the only Grey Warden left that knew what it meant to **be** a Grey Warden…I need you, Alistair."

Our eyes were locked and I had my hand on her shoulder, worried at the pain in her eyes, but she continued, voice steady and clear, "I'm used to giving orders and taking command, well, as you probably noticed," we both had to smile at that, "but…I need you to know why. I-" her eyes shut and she took a deep breath.

"I don't mean to interrupt, Aliara, but Duncan told me a little about what happened at Highever," I couldn't let her hurt like this without knowing the truth. Her eyes opened in shock, but there was no condemnation there.

"That actually…makes it a bit better," she sighed. "I remember what you said to me by the river that day, when you asked if noblewomen were encouraged to go out in the sun," I ran my hand through my hair in embarrassment again but she chuckled. "I haven't said this in so long, though. I am the second child of Teyrn Bryce Cousland and Teyrna Eleanor Cousland." A shudder ran through her as she bared her soul to me. "My brother was-is, _he __**is**_ Fergus Cousland and he is the heir so long as he lives," she wasn't crying, but that didn't make this moment any less heart-rending.

"I was in charge of the castle as my brother marched to Ostagar with almost all of our soldiers; only my own and my parent's bodyguards remained. We were caught unawares. It was…a difficult night. Duncan spirited me out after my mother and I took out many of Howe's men, but not enough. Never enough," Aliara's whisper was haunting. "We didn't stop to break camp for two days, only slowing enough to eat and drink. Howe's men knew I wasn't in the castle and he knew that I was to be there…so I've kept quiet about my family name, in case he means to strike at our allies.

"You're…the only one I can speak to about this right now, Alistair," she was still whispering, clutching one of my shirts in her hands and looking into the water as though it held all of the answers she sought. "For whatever reason, you gave me the reins of leadership and I took them, naturally. It was never because I doubted you, but because leadership and the life of a soldier are all I've ever known and wanted. And unlike everyone in my life before you," a laugh fled her mouth helplessly and my body clenched with the pain of not knowing how to comfort her, "you've always looked at me as an equal in all things regarding war, I think. In everything. You've…just _talking_ with you gives me hope that we can do all these impossible things we have to do."

Suddenly, her eyes were on mine again. "I hope you don't think I look down on you for not wanting the responsibilities of leadership or for anything else. I know you said you're a bastard, but that _doesn't matter_. You're a Grey Warden and so am I and I think that means that, more than anything else, _we_ need each other as much as everyone else needs _us_. So don't…don't question why I care if you approve of my decisions or of our companions," her voice was slightly hoarse from speaking so quietly for so long. "Their opinions matter, of course: like Leliana or Wynne, I want them to respect me because they are good moral people…but you, you are the only one I can't do without. Just…remember that. Please."

I sat there, unable to move for the longest moment as my heart nearly burst from all the conflicting emotions she'd managed to provoke in me. Worry, fear, joy, pride, respect, love…I could barely think when she was near me like this, telling me thoughts and feelings that she couldn't share with anyone else. There was a wild hope growing inside of me and I didn't know what I wanted to say first. "I will always remember that," I heard myself saying, voice hoarse with emotion.

All of my clothing was clean, so there was no valid excuse I could use to stay here with her longer, but I was entirely unwilling to leave now before I'd said something important to her. She had left me with so much that I had to return the favor. "It was never you that I didn't trust," that felt too awkward, but I could work with it. "I just…I worry sometimes that the people we recruit don't really care about anything other than themselves and only barely care about this damn Blight. I mean, Morrigan? _Creepy_. I have this bad feeling that Flemeth sent her with us for something, something more than she was willing to explain to us. I don't think I could bear to watch you get hurt like that. To be betrayed by the people you invested time and trust in."

I had heard the phrase _sparkling eyes _before, but I never thought that made any sense until now. _Maybe it's the reflection of the light on the water or something less magical than just her inner beauty shining through, because Maker knows I'm a bit naïve, but that's just so __**sappy**__, _I was desperately trying not to fall victim to her eyes. _Not doing so well there_, _lad_. My inner voice was starting to sound suspiciously like Bann Teagan.

"I've never wanted to be responsible for anyone else," I told her, slowly, as we folded up my dry and half-dry clothes. "I was told…a lot of things about how I would never amount to much of anything. Isolde wasn't very happy having me around, thinking I was Eamon's bastard son." At her inquisitive stare, I laughed, "I… should probably have told you this earlier, but since we're heading to Redcliffe soon, you need to know."

"What do I need to know, Alistair?" Aliara asked me, her perpetually steady voice letting me know that she wouldn't be angry at me for not telling her sooner. Or that's what I hoped, at least.

"I've told you how Arl Eamon raised me, right? And that my mother was a serving girl in the castle and he took me in?"

"Yes, you did tell me that and…well, honestly, I was wondering what the catch was," giving me a sheepish smile, she shrugged. "I suspected your father must be important for a nobleman of Eamon's stature to take in a bastard as his ward. No offense, I mean, but nobles are all a bit, um…cold, in my experience."

I had to chuckle at that, though there was little mirth left in me at this point. "You would be correct. You've won the prize! Your very own Important Bastard! What will you do with him, I wonder? Maybe he's good as a coat-rack…"

Aliara snorted and patted the ground next to her, the night air chilly enough to warrant a need for combined body-heat. "I think I shall wring his neck if he continues to change the subject."

"Ah, an excellent choice, my lady." I paused, collecting my thoughts and wondering how best to say everything I needed to say, "He did that because…well, my father was King Maric. Which made Cailan my…half-brother, I suppose."

The silence between us wasn't too awkward, considering. She was looking at me again with those eyes that were capable of reading a man's soul, though, and I was getting a bit nervous. What if she tried to keep me from fighting as Duncan had? To not be able to fight at her side, to not avenge Duncan and the Grey Wardens…it would kill me. I stared back at her, desperately praying that this wouldn't change anything between us.

"So," thoughtful and quiet came her answer, "you're not just a bastard, but a royal bastard?"

I blinked. That wasn't the response I was expecting, but she never was one for beating around the bush. "I've never thought of it like that. I'm going to have to use that line sometime, definitely."

She laughed and handed me a shirt, "Think it's getting a bit too cold out here for you to keep flaunting your abdominal muscles like that. Trying to give a girl a heart attack is rude, you know."

_Did she like looking at me as much as I liked looking at her?_ Now there was a thought more stunning than being a royal bastard. I nearly jumped up and clicked my heels like a giddy lass getting her first dress. _I might just have some sort of…fetish, with dresses. Must watch out for that._ "Are you saying that I'm giving you a heart attack?" I dared.

Her quick blush was an answer in itself: "We can talk about how dreadfully handsome you are later, stop trying to change the subject."

I pouted, but obliged her: "I would have told you before, but…it never really meant anything to me." At her doubtful glance, I hurried to explain, "I was inconvenient, a possible threat to Cailan's rule and so they kept me secret. I've never talked about it to anyone." I slipped into my shirt to keep her from reading my face as I said _that_ – she didn't need to know just how painful it was to tell her the secret that had ruined my childhood. "Everyone who knew either resented me for it or coddled me…even Duncan," my voice broke slightly and by the Maker, could she be just a _little bit harder_ to trust with my soul, please? I'd tell her all those embarrassing stories of me covered in mud without hesitation if she asked.

"Even Duncan kept me out of the fighting because of it. I didn't want you to know as long as possible. I'm sorry," I felt…relieved and resigned at the same time. It had been so nice to have her trust and respect without her knowing the truth, but it was better for her to find out from me, so I could tell her that piece of information that had gnawed at my heart every day since the battle at Ostagar.

I felt the warmth of her hand on my back. "I think I understand, Alistair."

"Thank you for not hating me. I just…I should have told you when we got sent to that stupid tower or after, in Flemeth's hut, when I realized what Duncan had done. But…at any rate, that's what I had to tell you," I finished briskly, trying to seem confident and not whiny which I suspected I was a great deal of the time when I spoke to her of Duncan.

The hand on my back poked me, hard. "Alistair, of course I wouldn't hate you for not telling me. I had the option to tell you who I was when we first met, when you recognized…my coat-of-arms." She sighed and I wrapped one arm around her shoulders so that we sat comfortably, supporting each other physically and mentally. "So what kind of hypocrite would I be if I got angry at you now? I can't share your…bitterness at Duncan sending you from the fighting, though, I'm sorry. Maybe it's the noble in me – I try to beat her regularly, but still she nags at me," her attempts at humor were cute though generally a little bit frightening, but still I chuckled, "but keeping a possible heir to the throne alive is important. Especially with Cailan being…Cailan.

"I knew him, you know," she was clearly remembering the past, eyes gazing up at the sky, her neck white in the moonlight. _Beautiful_. "Fergus and I were forced to visit Denerim and take obnoxious lessons and get friendly with the future ruler of Ferelden. Fergus was actually quite good at all that," her grin was part fondness and part self-deprecation, "but even then, all Cailan - and I - wanted to do was whack things with shiny pointy objects. That was when my mother despaired of trying to make a match for me, I think. But yes, Cailan was all, 'Swords swords swords!' and I was all, 'Let's go attack our teachers!' and Fergus and Anora would tattle on us and Loghain would-"

We both tensed, at that. "How did he not recognize you?" I wondered aloud.

"For the same reason that Duncan sent you to that tower," sighing in resignation, she continued: "Fergus continued to visit Denerim regularly with my parents, but I was made to stay in Highever, because my father insisted that I be safe from politics and the maneuverings of the other arls."

I knew she saw my confused look, because she sighed again, "He was keeping me from being sold into marriage at fifteen, Alistair. I wonder now if he knew that Howe and Loghain were planning something, even if he didn't know the extent of their idiocy. He kept me from leading the troops to Ostagar, despite being a better military strategist than my brother, though he is the heir. Howe's soldiers couldn't recognize me in armor and didn't know enough to kill me first before the rest of my family." She sounded so bitter that I squeezed her gently. "Loghain didn't recognize me as we met face to face and Cailan kept my identity from him, I **knew** it. Cailan knew me almost immediately; we'd been friendly enough in our love for brave tales of adventures; the rebel King and the mighty Cousland." We chuckled, but she sounded so worn down.

"I, too, loved all of those stories," I admitted. "I always wondered what kind of man Maric was and why he never visited me. I hoped that it was because he was doing more great deeds instead of…just him not caring about my existence, I guess."

She shook her head, so intent to refute my claim that she bumped into my shoulder. "No, Alistair, having met him, I don't think that he could just not care. He was a good man, but kings have to do things they don't like most of the time. Well, all of the time, really. Cailan was always mad that he wouldn't be allowed to join the Grey Wardens, so at least be grateful that you've upheld your brother's dearest wish."

I smiled, feeling the knot in my chest dissipate as she responded in kind. "They're going to send someone after us pretty soon," I admitted reluctantly, "so let's move on and I'll just pretend you still think I'm some nobody who was too lucky to die with the rest of the Grey Wardens."

I knew I had gotten my tone wrong when she stood, abruptly tugging me up with her, and stared fiercely into my eyes. "That's not _really_ what you think, is it?" Her voice cracked, harsh with emotion, and I wondered if I'd offended her.

"No," I breathed, steadying myself with my hands on her shoulders, "I think that I was lucky enough to survive…with _you_."

Somehow her demanding grip had morphed into a tight hug and I was holding her just as insistently. I would have to thank Zevran later; if he hadn't been such a prat, I wouldn't have gotten to have this conversation with Aliara and then I would have been stuck telling her with Wynne and Leliana listening in, as well. I wouldn't have learned about her life and the exciting possibility of embarrassing stories of her childhood, either!

The assassin was good for something, at least!


	12. Life was full of regrets

Author's Note: Hello again!

I realized that I had _completely _forgotten to leave a link to a very friendly and talented Livejournal community devoted to all things Alistair, but equally receptive to lovers of all the other wonderful characters in Dragon Age: Origins! (How could you not love Zevran, after all?!) I put the link in my profile, but search for Swooping_is_bad and check out all the amazing stuff that people are posting there! I'm sure you all will love it there.

And since disclaimers can keep you safe: I still don't own most of the characters or places described within, except for the things that no one at BioWare would want. (Like my soul.)

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**No life was lived without regrets.**

"What are regrets, Guardian?" Aliara's voice was contemplative, yet I worried; she had sketched a brief explanation of what had occurred before she became a Grey Warden and only to me. I worried that she would regret saying anything in front of us (Wynne, Leliana, and me as usual) or that she would say nothing, letting her feelings fester unchecked in her heart. I was intruding on an intimate moment, one that I did not want to see, but at the same time desperately needed to.

"I must ask the questions here, Pilgrim, but I am curious – you must know what regrets are to answer the question, yes?"

She waved her hand, so lost in thought that she betrayed her noble upbringing with that supercilious motion. "Regrets, Guardian, are merely an acknowledgement of the choices one could have made if they were someone, something, other than what they are. Everyone has regrets because **everyone** must make choices in their lives." The Guardian was clearly about to speak, but that noble gesturing came back in the sign of _Shut up before I backhand you. _"So my answer to you is yes, Guardian.

"Yes, I regret leaving my mother to die at my father's side. Yes, I regret not dying by their side." My throat clenched; the thought of her dying before we'd ever met felt akin to swallowing my sword. "Yes, I regret not going after my brother as soon as I could. Yes, I regret that I have not yet put my sword to Howe's treacherous neck." Her voice was as smooth as Lake Calenhad as dawn broke and fog rolled across its surface - and just as frigid. "But no, Guardian, those regrets do not make me a weaker person because I would choose a thousand times to leave at Duncan's side and to join the Grey Wardens. The Maker has chosen this path for me and I **will not fail.** My regrets do not allow for failure."

The Guardian looked at her then, truly saw her fierce expression and the ironclad determination in her stance, and he nodded slowly to her. "You do not look to the past to decide your fate, but to the possibilities of the future. That is quite rare."

"It is easy for someone else to judge you for your actions after the fact, but that doesn't mean they should," I said, firm in the belief that the Guardian should get his large sword shoved up his arse. She turned to lock gazes with me and clasped my hand in her own, an embrace of comrades to show her gratitude.

Wynne and Leliana both agreed with my defense of our beloved leader, but I cannot recall exactly what they said because the Guardian's heavy stare turned next to me. "You wish that you had been there at Ostagar, to shield Duncan from the final blow that killed him."

That was a below the belt hit if ever I'd heard one. I couldn't look at her as I answered, my voice unable to rise past a rough whisper, "Yes, I wish I had been there with him."

He moved on to question Leliana's belief in her vision and Wynne's life in the Circle, but I couldn't listen. I felt like I'd betrayed Aliara's confidence by uttering that truth.

Of _course_ I wished I'd been with Duncan when he fell just I wished I could take his body from that place and bury it somewhere worthy of him. Maybe if I'd been there, the King wouldn't have died and this mess with Loghain would be settled. Maybe if I'd been there, Duncan would be alive instead of me and giving my lady the proper Grey Warden training and advice she had never received. Maybe things would be better if I had died and both of them, maybe all of the other Grey Wardens, had lived.

But **they** weren't here now. They weren't by her side and they weren't here to guide us. She had said it perfectly; I could no more choose my death than I could choose to be born something other than a bastard, but I could change my future. Hearing her voice that belief so confidently made me even more honored to fight by her side, but what if my answer had disappointed her?

I wouldn't have time to speak to her about it until after we had stood in the presence of Andraste's ashes. We passed through the flames, beholding the holiest site in Ferelden and I felt that the peacefulness of that place, the sacred and serene atmosphere, gave me a better understanding of the religious fervor that held so many people. Leliana's face was streaked with tears of joy and our lady had placed her gauntleted hand upon the bard's shoulder, a gentle smile as we just…absorbed the feelings of that place.

We rested in that foyer, because we would have to face the High Dragon pretending to be Andraste reborn once we went back to the mountain top. It was there that my fellow Warden sat beside me, quiet as she handed me a waterskin. "Thank you, my lady."

Eyebrow raised, the phrase worked just as I'd hoped. "Don't call me that, Alistair. I do have a name, you know."

"Yes, yes, I'm sure you do. What was it again? Oh, right, I remember…" I raised my hands in surrender after she gave me a good whack for that one. "Sorry, sorry, I couldn't resist. So what would you like to talk about…my lady?"

She glared at me for a moment before taking a swig from her own skin. "Do you want to talk about what the Guardian asked? Or…" the uncertainty was written all over her face, a weakness she'd never shown before, "did you…want to ask me about…what you heard? I know I haven't explained _exactly _what happened but, well…" she sighed, her head dropping to her free hand, arm propped up on one knee.

She looked defeated as she rubbed her hand wearily across her brow and pushed her hair back. I had so many questions, but I didn't want her to tell me her secrets just because some Guardian had forced them out of her. I wanted her to tell me when she felt the need to do so.

I've never had much experience with consoling beautiful women who might punch me for thinking they needed consoling, but I had a lot of spirit and she always seemed to see right through me anyway, so hopefully she'd understand what I was trying to do. I scooted closer to her until we were side-by-side from hip to shoulder. She looked up at me, head tilted in her hand, and her eyes were so full of sadness that my body took over for me; my arm went around her shoulders and pulled her gently against my chest.

Whether she understood my intentions or not, it had been the right thing to do: she buried her face against my shoulder, her nose cold against the base of my neck. Her legs were curled over my knees and as one of my hands held her still and tight, the other gently rubbed her back.

Aliara didn't cry, nor did she speak. I told her in a low voice exactly how proud I'd been to hear her answer to the Guardian's tough questions and my shame over only giving half of what I thought. I told her that I wished I was as quick and brilliant as Duncan had been or as legitimate a son as Cailan, but since I was neither, I was glad to be by her side, to aid her with all the skills and knowledge I **did** have. The hand I'd been using to trace large circles on her back was pulled into her grip, firm and unwavering. "Thank you, Alistair," she whispered, her warm breath catching on the tiny beads of sweat that rested on my skin.

Suddenly, I realized how closely we were seated. I felt all the places that she was touching me, that I was touching her, burning as if coated with the lava that flowed beneath Orzammar. Now that she had spoken, I was unsure of what to do; she wasn't attempting to disentangle herself, but maybe that was my move? Either way, I knew that she must've noticed the change in my demeanor. My heart was beating quickly, directly under her chin.

I pressed my cheek to the top of her head and took a deep breath, only to release it in a rush when I felt her raise our intertwined fingers to rest over my marathon-running heart. _Do __**not**__ panic, just savor this moment_, I demanded of myself. I closed my eyes and inhaled, learning the natural scent that was Aliara – her hair, her scalp, her perspiration. I had no doubt that I smelled sweaty, myself, so I found it comforting that she was equally so.

I didn't realize that she had fallen asleep against me until Leliana crept silently to my other side, finger over her mouth to forestall any rambling protests I might have begun. "Today was harder on her than on us," she murmured, voice just a shade louder than a whisper.

"Yes, it was," I concurred at the same volume. Leliana had explained that the sound of whispers carried further than just a low quiet tone; a very helpful lesson, indeed. "Do you think I can lie down a bit without waking her?" Sitting up on the base of the stairs was starting to make my back twinge.

Leliana nodded and I carefully leaned back, smiling at her gratefully as I found a soft bundle under my head and neck. She returned the smile and clasped my shoulder, the one not occupied by our lady, before moving away to check on Wynne, I presumed. Aliara stirred briefly, hand smoothing over my upper chest distractingly and legs capturing one of my calves, but otherwise did not awaken. I left a kiss in her hair and joined her in the Fade, feeling more comfortable than I had in months.


	13. Life was hard but also a bit lovely

Author's Note: Hello! If you were reading along before the Regret chapter, you should skip back a few and read the one before that (should be chapter 11) because I somehow swapped those two when I was uploading. Oops!

I admit to being a goober, I really do. Aim your rotten vegetables to my front-side though and not the hair, please!

Again: thank you readers and reviewers. You all rock!

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**Life was hard when the one you love is reasonably fond of you in return.**

That wasn't _entirely_ true.

We were at camp and I had lost track of all the darkspawn we'd defeated and the number of pleas we answered; Aliara denied no one her ear, she even offered mercy to the damn Blood Mage who had nearly killed Arl Eamon, and all who were helped by her – and us, but she made the decisions, knew the steps to take, knew what made us all happy or uncomfortable – loved her.

Zevran was so obvious in his admiration that I constantly wanted to ring his neck. His witty _Hey, come jump in my bed! _Invitations hadn't ceased in the slightest and I had no idea what to do to make them stop. After all, his gracefully attractive neck and his nimble bendy body **had** to be appealing, right? I couldn't blame her if she found him attractive, though the whole _Zevran tried to kill us_ thing still bugged me. _A reasonable grudge to hold_, I imagined.

He was experienced and confident. Even I admired that about him, so again, I couldn't find fault with her if she did, as well! Why would she choose **me** when she could have **him**? **H****e** didn't stutter awkwardly when she said something nice or tease her as I did, he used those scary-assassin-seducer eyes and voice on her, instead.

_Way more effective_, I acknowledged. I would've taken notes if I weren't so caught up in jealous neck-strangling thoughts.

I knew his intentions. Zevran had answered my growled question, saying that she was strong and beautiful, exactly what he fancied most. He wanted to lay with her; no deep love, no meaning. She had to know that he was only interested in her body – amazing it is, but still! There's so much **more** to her than that. I had seen it for over a month, maybe over two, now, how everything she did or said brought someone peace of mind.

He didn't want to gently make love to her, he wanted the kind of sex those boys had bragged about in the dormitories of my youth. The thought of it twisted my stomach into angry knots, like a ball of yarn tangled up by angry, feisty kittens.

I was busy imagining them sweaty and tangled, scowling and tossing bits of wood into the fire, when I felt her hand on my shoulder. Aliara was standing behind me, bent slightly at the waist, and I wanted to tug that loose shirt up past her ears, to hide the curves of her so that no one could see them as I did just then; the flickering firelight casting a sensual glow across her throat and shadow betwixt her breasts. Realizing I was staring (Right. At. Them. _Pervert_.) I stood and turned quickly, blocking that divine, twisting, and _extremely_ distracting play of light and shadow.

Gentlemanly asking her what she required of me – "What's up?" – she graced me with a gift: that small smile with both dimples and – maybe just the heat from the fire, but _still_ – a delicate blush. Then she asked me, softly but earnestly, if this was my mother's amulet.

It was.

My mind was racing with questions and my heart was in my throat, so close to being gagged on that I'm not sure if I was truly breathing. "Where?" I wheezed.

"Library. In a desk drawer. In Redcliffe, I mean, the Castle." I was too busy staring at the carefully - if inexpertly – repaired necklace to notice then how she fumbled slightly with that sentence, hesitant and hopeful.

"This is…" I was choking. On my heart. Maker, look at that eager face. Those soft lips slightly parted, eyes dazzlingly bright, blush beautiful and so delicate on my steel-backboned Hero. I said something that she could translate as how I meant to say: _ThankyouThankyouThankyou_.

Aliara smiled. Those **dimples**. I wanted to lick them.

"I'm so glad I got it right."

She **had** me.

Her eyes, her smile, those **dimples**, that blush of pleasure for making me so deliriously happy. My heart was choking out any chance for awkward words so my lips met hers abruptly, gently, one of my hands pulling her shoulder to me as the other – wrapped in that precious gift, the necklace I thought lost **so** long ago –came to rest tenderly on the curve of her jaw, thumb brushing the soft skin of her cheek and fingertips tickled by the small hairs that curved around her ear.

She made a soft wonderful sound as my lips moved against hers and I realized _exactly_ what I was doing. I released her mouth – slightly swollen and even more beautiful, if that were possible – and she looked as surprised as I felt, that – delightful, supple, warm – mouth shaped in an _Oh_ and her eyes wide and looking straight into mine.

I babbled. _Sorry_'s and _It means so much to me_, _I couldn't even speak_ were mushed together and she was smiling – those _cursed dimples_ –my hands still holding her in place, but she hadn't backed up and a, "Did I offend you?" slipped past the heart still blocking my throat and tumbled to her ears, while my thumb kept stroking her cheek – so soft, how could I resist?

Aliara laughed. Her voice wasn't musical like Leliana's or seductive like Morrigan's, but beautiful simply by virtue of the honesty that she treated everything to. Her laugh was overjoyed, as though **I** had given **her** a present and not the other way around, which was so obviously the case. I was back to babbling until I felt her hands, tugging on my shirt collar and forcing my neck to bend so that her lips could meet mine. My hands were holding her face to mine, as though I were cradling a glass of the finest wine in the land, one drifting into her hair while her hands were on my chest, and if she couldn't feel how hard my heart was pounding, then it must have stopped without me noticing.

Her lips opened gently under mine and I tasted her mouth, reveling in the gasp I swallowed and the tightened fists against my chest, pulling me in to exactly where I wanted, _needed_ to be, where I _belonged_.

I needed to breathe. _Aliara_ needed to breathe so we could continue doing that until the world ended. I looked into her eyes – and went back down. Her eyes had told mine _Yes_ and _Please_ and _This is how we fit together_ and my mouth was agreeing with _I'm yours Want me Please? Mine_.

This time, my breaths were ragged and her eyes were glazed, as though she had some lust spell cast upon her. Her mouth was more than a little swollen and wet now and she must have seen how I was _looking_, because her tongue darted out to make them even more appealing and I leaned down again, staring at and breathing on those lips. Her head tilted back, neck catching the glow of the fire again and I **wanted** it.

"You dropped it." Her voice wasn't helping me stop with my current kissing agenda at all. She was breathless, like **her** heart was choking **her**, too, so my thumb stroked a path from her soft cheek to her collarbone, trying to see if I could feel her heart pounding there, and her low moan stopped my heart for sure this time. Maker, I **wanted**. Everything. Her bones, her hair, her fingernails, her nose, her eyes, her **everything**. I _**wanted**_ it.

Aliara had said something. I thought back to it, feeling like it was so long ago, and realized she was right. "I'm sorry, you gave me the best gift ever and I dropped it and I kissed you in front of everyone and-" her mouth was on mine again and I got the hint (this time).

She loosened her hold, trying to flatten out the wrinkles she'd made in my shirt, but only succeeding in making my heart thump harder. "Don't be sorry, please. I hope you kissed me because you like me-it. Don't worry about everyone else; I'm certainly not ashamed of kissing you. Twice." She added that last bit pointedly, but she wasn't looking right at me and Maker, it **hurt**.

"I like it. I like you. For a while now. I've just never done this. I feel like I'm an embarrassment, but your smile makes me **do** things and I'm sorr-" her finger was on my mouth. _Oops_. "It slipped," I mumbled, liking the feel of her calloused finger on my lips.

"I like you, too, Alistair. I was hoping you felt the same." _Maker, that __**face**__. You did a good job with that face. _She laughed, the sound low and seductive to my ears. I must've said it out loud which was embarrassing but not very surprising, but she was kissing me and really, I would definitely say it again if **that** was the end result.


	14. Life was hard and everyone is a jerk

**Life was hard when everyone you knew was a pain in the ass.**

I'm looking at **you**, Zevran. For some reason, our fearless leader had Zevran join us as we ran around Denerim like chickens with their heads chopped off instead of Leliana, who was _clearly_ her best friend. The two of them were thick as thieves these days and frankly, I got a bit jealous sometimes. If Leliana tried to kiss her, I swear I would only fantasize for a minute before breaking that up!

Unless they were wearing something from **Morrigan's** closet. Then I'd let it go on for a while. I'm just a man, you know. I have _needs_.

Anyway, where was I? Yes. **Zevran**. _Smarmy bastard_ – and I know bastards. Zevran took position behind my love and next to or before Wynne and me so he had to know that _we knew_ exactly where he was looking the whole time. I felt like a tea kettle left over the fire for too long just watching him. Four hours of walking through Denerim, searching Brother Genitivi's home, searching for the lair that the doomed adventurers had warned us of, and looking for annoying thugs to kill, was simply driving me to madness.

I didn't crack until we were heading up some stairs and my love stopped us abruptly to crouch, shield in front of her and sword aimed at whatever she was sensing. I tensed in the back and checked to see if this was another damn ambush, but she grumbled, "It's cold here, another one of those damn phylacteries," and I knew we were safe for the moment. Zevran, of course, used that safe moment to "trip" and "land" on her with his "**hands on her hips**."

_**MINE**_. My mind was somewhat unhappy with this situation.

To say the least.

My hand gripped his hair and he yelped – remarkably similar to the sound tiny dogs make when _kicked_ – and it felt so _good_ until Wynne interrupted. "Boys, stop that this instant."

"Spoilsport," I managed to get out between clenched teeth. My love had turned to watch us as I literally took Zevran's tiny _squishy_ neck in my gauntleted hands - why did she look so shocked?

"Alistair," she said in a voice that was just barely holding on to its patience, "please stop strangling him. I need him to pick locks and stab things."

"Yes, well," I tried to sound civil and conversational, but mostly my blood was boiling, "maybe you should explain to him where his hands are allowed to go and where they're not!"

"Alistair, I'm in full plate armor. I don't think he managed to feel anything up!" Patience gone, she smacked my forearm hard enough to make Zevran wince and me to let go.

Zevran pulled off handsome and suave even when his face was **blue**. _**Ridiculous**_. "That is true, my lady. Next time, I will try to cop a feel when you're starting the campfire." He had the audacity to wink at her! _Wink_! My hands were twitching, aching to wring that neck again.

Aliara looked up to the heavens in askance and Wynne was chortling behind her wicked grandmotherly hand. "Zevran, please explain to Alistair that you were only doing that because he's been frothing at the mouth for the past four hours or so."

"**What**?!" I knew my voice was a bit rough but she knew I was tense this whole time and let Zevran continue what he was doing?! She was as wicked as the other two!

"Fine, fine," Zevran sighed as though it was such a burden to tell the truth, "Alistair, teasing you brings me such joy that I couldn't help myself. Also, her bottom looks nice even covered in sheets of metal, yes, my friend?"

I wasn't sure if I should pout or growl, so I did what any man would do and kicked the icy phylactery. The Revenant was sure to shut them all up for a few minutes, at least.

Their outraged shrieks made me feel better, too.


	15. Life was hard but bearable

**Life was hard, but quite bearable, really.**

We had saved Arl Eamon from the Loghain's poison and I may have been so ecstatic about the whole thing – being in the presence of Andraste's ashes, watching my Hero get the final blow on the High Dragon, saving the man who had repaired my mother's necklace – that I _may_ have swooped down and kissed her right in front of Teagan, Isolde, Eamon, Leliana (who giggled, the **brat**), Wynne, and even **Connor**. Aliara had calmly been telling Teagan it was, "No big deal," or something equally stupid and really, had she been dropped on her fool head when she was young? "No big deal, I eat cults and High Dragons every day! _Delicious_ and nutritious!"

So Aliara was blushing furiously and Wynne was snorting behind her hand; Leliana had to hold the bedpost to stay standing and the rest were just **gobsmacked**. Oh Maker, Irving – **First Enchanter** Irving – was there, too, smirking like a **demon**. Connor asked if we were **married** and I was choking again and Aliara was glaring at me but smiling at the boy and saying something like, "We're a bit busy for that right now,"and glaring at me **again** and Eamon was laughing and saying it was clear that the Blight had better get a move on and hide so we could get married or she'd take it and me over her knee.

That thought was equal parts true, frighteningly so, and _**hot**_. _Maker, see what you did? All those years of repression and now I'm a grown man looking forward to a spanking._

Leliana was on the floor now, clutching her sides, and Wynne was **crying** from laughing so hard, holding onto Irving's arm as he guffawed along with her and I **REALLY** needed to work on that brain to mouth thing and my Hero, Warden, Love agreed through the hand covering her half-mortified, half-laughing face. Two dimples, Maker, save me!

Eamon hugged me after everyone had gone, even Aliara, because she'd pushed me into his study with a soft smile, telling me to show him the necklace. I had lost Duncan and my heart still hurt and cried out for Loghain to **pay**, but I had Eamon – had never **lost** him – and **her** and that was so much that I still pray to the Maker to thank him, every day. I wasn't that religious when I lived day in and day out with the required prayers of the Chantry because I hadn't had all this love to be so ridiculously grateful for.

She asked me as we were enjoying a night's rest in the castle – no, perverts, not _that_ kind of enjoying; **I** am a gentleman and a **coward** – if everything had gone well with the Arl. Knowing that she cared was going to make my heart fall out of my chest, so I made some witty comment about her being better glue than what was holding my mother's necklace together and her happy eyes just begged me to kiss her. **Forced me**, I tell you.

I brushed some of her hair off of her face and the _**look**_ she was giving me. Wow. I was hoping my pants were just cruelly magicked to shrink and not that I was, uh, **reacting**, but unless she could detect magic now, well, she seemed to notice. Or at least her eyes were still **looking** at me like that, but her mouth was twisting in a sweetly wicked way, both dimples and a smirk, goodness. She was trying to kill me, clearly.

She had mistaken me for a darkspawn with shrunken pants - **that** mental image almost helped, but then she was so much closer and touching my neck and kissing me and **nothing** was going to help against that onslaught. "Maker's breath, but you're beautiful."

Maybe it was all that sword-fighting that trained her to parry and thrust so well with her **tongue**. I'm not sure, honestly, because I'd trained with a sword and in this arena sometimes felt as though I were still that fumbling teenager, with limbs too long for the rest of me. But she hadn't complained yet, so maybe I wasn't doing as poorly as I imagined? Maybe my spirit counted as much to her as it had for Duncan?

Then she was sighing, but not the kind that I really liked hearing, and her eyes were less _I want you_ and more _I want to __**smack**__ you_. "You're thinking so hard I swear I can hear it, Alistair." Huh. _No one had every accused me of that before._ "No one's had their tongue in your mouth as you were doing it, I imagine," came the tart reply to my unknowingly spoken comment.

"And really, you wouldn't blurt things out so often if you didn't think so much," she added, rather helpfully, actually. "You think so many things that eventually your brain must get tired and tells your mouth, 'Just say something already!' so it can get a moment's peace." She wasn't looking all that mad, I noticed, just bemused. And flushed. Kissable.

"Ah, and now you're **finally** not thinking," she had her hands on her hips and looking down at them was **such** a bad idea, because _mmm_ those hips… "If you don't kiss me again, I will rip off your arm and beat you to death with it!"

Threats had to be responded to with equal force, or I had learned as much from her. So she shouldn't have been so surprised when my hand **lightly** squeezed her delicious posterior. I got smacked, but it was the _You tease!_ kind and not the scary kind.

It was good to be me.

Until I had to walk halfway across the damned castle to my room with…my **predicament**, as it were. Everyone was grinning or smirking at me the next morning and all I could think was: _It __**sucks**__ to be me._

She didn't need to be so smug about it, either, especially at breakfast, when Leliana innocently inquired: "Would you like a large sausage today, Warden?"

Innocent? My **arse**.

Aliara replied, straight-faced, but I could **hear** the gargantuan smirk in her voice: "No thank you, I've already got one."

At least Zevran choked on **his** breakfast sausage at that, Sten beating on his back so hard he blacked out for a minute. Wynne excused herself from the table, but we **all** heard her laughing her head off in the hallway. And **Aliara**? She just smiled at me and kept eating. _Cheeky wench._


	16. Life was hard in the Deep Roads

**Life in the Deep Roads was particularly hard.**

Or, that's what I heard anyway. From Leliana, Wynne, and Oghren. Drunken bastard.

Well, probably not an _actual _bastard, but still a **bastard**.

In Orzammar, Aliara had told me that she would need Oghren's help getting through the Deep Roads to find Branka. I understood – she wasn't tossing me aside because I lacked ability but because I was three feet too tall to fit underground. Oghren had flipped me the bird but she merely sighed, looking askance to her two female conspirators. They tried to comfort me, but I was feeling just a bit grumpy.

I pushed it aside when she told them to get ready, pinning me to where I stood with just her eyes. "You know full well that I don't want to bring the drunken bastard with me instead of you." I did like hearing her confirm my analysis of his personality, though. "But this is his **wife**, Alistair. How would you feel if-" she was definitely glaring at me – "someone **you** cared about was ill and you didn't go on the quest to save him?"

Aliara - a tactical genius, but subtle? _Not so much_. I only loved her better for it. "I know. I just don't like you going down there. That's where it ends for most of us Wardens." I couldn't keep going with that thought process without going insane, tying her up, and tossing her into my tent. "I'm sorry. Please don't feel badly about it. You go with my prayers for your success! How could you lose, eh?" I pretended to be lordly and dramatic, like all the annoying Brothers I'd met at the Chantry.

She chuckled, but otherwise seemed earnest and a little too serious. "This will be the only time I go into the Deep Roads without you." Aliara hadn't broken eye contact with me, but she was shiftingher weight from foot to foot, her plate armored feet clanging against stone floor. Was that nervousness? Was that how it looked on her, when she pledged that in **thirty** **years** or so down the road – Roads, really – we would be together, still be together?

"Right. Wow. Um. This is really bad timing, maybe, well – everything about our lives now is about bad timing, isn't it? But I wanted to show you this." And I was handing over the rose I'd held onto for so long now, a gift from the Maker that the petals were still velvety soft, if no longer supple, though what little left of the stem was brittle and fragile. The rose that reminded me of **her**. I told her that; that she was all the beauty in this dark world, to me.

For once, I said it exactly as I meant to, as I heard it sounding in my head. That she was beautiful, strong, honest, and she made this world a better place just by being in it. That I must've done something right by the Maker since she was here, with me. Or that He chose me to stand at her side, giving me the Hero I'd dreamt of for so long. I wondered if she'd ever dreamt of a wisearse sidekick when she was younger. But for now, that question was pushed aside, because she was beaming. Not just a smile and dimples and bright eyes, but everything about her was radiant.

Aliara pulled out her handkerchief as reverently as she tucked it away every morning that I'd known her and – bless her blunt heart, Maker – wrapped it around the flower before putting them both away, just as delicately. I vigorously reminded myself that she wasn't tucking it into her smallclothes anymore, but close enough, damn flower. "I'm not sure exactly what to say, but…this is the nicest gift I've ever received, Alistair."

**I** got the best kiss yet, though so maybe the flower wasn't that lucky. Spirit counted as much for kisses as it did for pouring my heart out to her, but I knew I was becoming more adept at both because she was clutching my shoulders tightly as we parted, breathless and wobbly. I said something witty afterwards to give us both a moment to recover, "Now...if we could move right on past this awkward embarrassing stage and get right to the steamy bits, I'd appreciate it."

Her throaty response made my brain melt. "Alright, armor off."

"Heh, that's a good one! Called my bluff, I see. You win!"

"Who says it had to be a bluff?" She murmured, giving me that Look through thick eyelashes, and turned to join the others waiting patiently for her with a smirk still on her lips.

At least I was wearing armor when I took the long walk from Orzammar to camp. And luckily, we were in the mountains so I could get a nice **cold** bath.

***

A cold bath was apparently _not_ in my near future, however; Morrigan was leaning idly against one of the many stone statues that littered the entrance to Orzammar as I attempted to exit the city. "Ah, so she took the Dwarven fool over the Warden fool this time, I see," her voice echoed disturbingly in the grand entrance hall and I wondered what she was going to pester me about this time.

"Yes, I'm too tall for some of those caverns, you know. Oghren is just the right size to wiggle through some of those tunnels!" I wondered if walking faster would be enough to escape her biting remarks, but I should've known better.

I could hear the sneer in her voice as we walked step for step into the open market of the Frostback Mountains. "I would say that size doesn't matter when you have the strength of a Grey Warden, but truly I wonder at what strength you must possess, to be so constantly left behind by your order."

"Wow, you're really out for blood today," I mused. "Sten still not putting out for you? It's not his fault he can sense your crazy witchy evilness from leagues away. Can't you find some other man to suck the life out of?" I pretended to think about it, scratching my chin exaggeratedly. "Though even Zevran wouldn't touch you with a ten-foot lance. And you and I are Apostate and Templar, so our love was doomed from the beginning!"

I caught her grimace out of the corner of my eye as we caught up to the very men we were referring to. "You are far too inept at everything in life for me to want to test you in bed. Nor would I touch Zevran, considering the laundry list of women and men he has been with – though perhaps you have never heard of the diseases that can be transmitted sexually, with your inexperience? Lucky for you that your fellow Grey Warden can teach you."

That sounded suspiciously kind for her and I wondered what she was going to trap me with next. "Yes, I feel very lucky, getting to share my feelings with her. You do know what feelings are, Morrigan, or do I need to explain what they are in small words for you?"

"Just because I care nothing for the feelings of others does not mean I have none of my own, you simpleton," she answered easily. "I was curious, however, about your own feelings towards our great and fearless leader."

Shocked, I undeniably stuttered, "W-what? Why would you care about that?"

Morrigan's unnerving yellow eyes stared back at me and the expression on her face was more serious than I'd expected. "Your feelings are as apparent as the time of day is upon the sky. What I truly wonder is whether it is permissible for Grey Wardens to…oh, what is the word I search for?"

There was no way she actually wanted to talk about this. With me. A blood mage had stolen Morrigan's façade and was going to kill us in our sleep. Yet, she was glaring at me expectantly, waiting for me to acknowledge her indirect question. "Uh, canoodle?"

"Fraternize," she hissed, the sound sibilant and sneaky; she was preparing herself to strike as surely as any serpent looking to make its kill.

"What exactly is wrong with fraternizing?" I asked, trying to keep my voice vague and disinterested as I knew that if I were to show some defensiveness in response to this line of questioning, she would undoubtedly win this round.

"It merely seems…most undisciplined, for an organization that claims it will do whatever is necessary to end the darkspawn threat." Morrigan was espousing the virtues of **not** pursuing romantic relationships? _Color me surprised!_

"I'm not sure that I see how the one thing has to do with the other," I sighed.

Her mock-surprised expression was too sharp to be truly amusing, only mocking. "Oh no? And **what** if a Grey Warden was forced to choose between the Warden he loved and ending the Blight?" Her voice was laden with innuendo and false interest, "What should his choice be?"

"That is a…ridiculous question." _My response was equally ridiculous_, I acknowledged silently. She had won, once again, and as always it left a gnawing feeling of overwhelming self-doubt in the pit of my stomach. _Why would a Grey Warden have to choose between the one and the other?_ Aliara had no intentions of abandoning our quest and running off to Orlais with us as her concubines, after all. Not that I'd heard of, anyway.

What was Morrigan getting at?

"Hm," she replied, smug and cruel, "and it seems that I have my answer. My thanks, Alistair."

"Oh, anytime," I replied bitterly. Or as Shale liked to say: _**Hag**_.

***

Aliara and the others were back late that night, after I had taken my watch and gone to sleep, so I didn't get to speak with any of them until the next morning. But I did feel better about being left behind when Wynne told me over breakfast just how infuriating it was to work with Oghren as a Spirit Healer, because he so rarely thought about actual battle tactics and got knocked on his fool head so often. "He certainly is a berserker and can take darkspawn down quickly, but he rushes in foolishly and with no finesse!" she huffed.

I felt better for about a minute, that is, before I realized he was putting my Hero in danger because he was a _wrathful_ _drunken moron_!

I wasn't able to truly confront Oghren until after they had found Branka, so I impatiently waited the few days it took them to reach her and yelled at him for a quarter of an hour before realizing that he was sleeping with his eyes open. Drunken _useless_ bastard!

Aliara sat beside me and bumped our shoulders together, nodding her head in the direction of His Drunken Smelliness and shaking her head in exasperation. "I feel rather bad for him; we had to kill her. Kind of terrible, being abandoned by your wife for another woman and then having to kill her because she went, well…what's a nice way of saying 'batty as batty can be' exactly?"

I snorted. "Having met him, I'm not sure if that was battiness or just mental self-defense against his personality."

She laughed, but scolded me. "You're quick to judge people, you know, for all your jokes, I think it's because of how meanly people treated you when you were young and couldn't defend yourself." She poked me in the side, taking advantage of my surprise, saying, "Don't be like them. You're a great man. Though you were mostly right about Oghren. He was fair terrible at thinking of tactics in a fight, too hot-headed. I missed you."

"I missed you, too." I replied without awkwardness, so glad that she had said it before I did. It was never good to seem too desperate, after all. "I got some quality time in with Morrigan, though, and you know how much I love **that**."

She rolled her eyes and gave me a bit of a glare, eyes piercing, as though she could use magically flay the skin off my bones if I didn't answer properly. "You aren't attracted to her, are you?"

I fell off the log. "Not if she were the last thing on this earth!" I shouted. Zevran and Leliana peered at us curiously from their conversation at the far side of the fire and Oghren stirred in his sleep. Aliara still looked a bit doubtful. "No, really. Remember when she and Flemeth took care of us? I nearly cried because she kept **touching** me, eurgh. I think only men with more _base_ personalities-" I glared at Oghren and Zevran in turn and she rolled her eyes again "-really enjoy that half-naked exhibitionist freak look.

Aliara had turned away slightly, gazing at the fire, and I was hoping that light blush was because of something I said and not just the heat assaulting her soft skin. Of course, I really should've been on my toes, considering that last question. She was out for my blood tonight; figuratively, though, because maybe she only wanted my heart. She had it, of course, I was just too chicken to tell her. "If you were raised in the Chantry, have you never...?"

I panicked, but kept my cool in the form of ridiculous answers. "Never...? Never what? Had a good pair of shoes?" Oh yes, that was _definitely_ a blush and now she was glaring at me, but I saw a hint of that dimple. _You can't hide from me, dimple! Don't even try it_.

"You know what I mean!" She nearly wailed and I couldn't resist teasing her further, grinning.

"I'm not sure I do. Have I never seen a basilisk? Never eaten cured ham? Have I never licked a lamppost in winter?" This was wonderful, watching her blush and stutter helplessly as I had done in her presence for _months_.

"Now you're just making fun of me," Aliara whispered, biting her lip. Maker, was that ever distracting, considering what we were talking about. I wanted to bite that lip.

I laughed, unable to stop my thumb from brushing over her lower lip, and shifted closer to her. "Make fun of you, dear lady? Perish the thought. Well, tell me,"and now I was going out on a limb here, but I'd heard Zevran's sexy-talk voice and I knew without a doubt that I could use it to my advantage, "Have **you** ever licked a **lamppost** in winter?"

She was furiously red-faced now and it clashed delightfully with her tanned skin. "No, I have…_never_…licked a lamppost in winter." Maker, now I was the most thankful man in the history of Ferelden. Her wide eyes were darker than usual, awaiting my response.

"I've heard it's quite painful," I answered pleasantly, running my hand through her hair and letting it rest on her neck, "I remember one of the younger initiates did it on a dare, once, and there was pointing and laughing...oh, the _humanity_."

I grinned again at her confused double-take; I was thoroughly enjoying keeping her befuddled. The slightly hungry look in those deep green eyes was a wicked reward. I leaned towards her slowly until my mouth was only a few inches from the curve of her ear; she turned her face to look directly at me, but we were too close for talking and I saw her lick her lips in surprise and desire. _Beautiful_. "I haven't done it," I whispered, "_That_. Not that I haven't thought about it, of course, but..." I made sure Aliara saw how I looked her over as I said that – let her know that _she_ made me think about it all the time.

"I heard it hurts at first, but anything worth doing requires a bit of pain."_Oh, goodbye, brain. I didn't need you, so please enjoy your melty heaven time._ "The art of lamppost licking, of course," her breathy voice supplied innocently.

I had to steer away from that comment before I did something rash! "Well, living in the Chantry is...not exactly a life for rambunctious boys. They taught me to be a gentleman, especially in the presence of beautiful women such as yourself." I placed a feather-light kiss on her neck where I could see her pulse throbbing with want; it spiked under my breath. "That's not so bad, is it?"

Unable to speak, she shook her head before attacking me with a kiss.

I was getting better at responding to her insanity-inducing presence with hilarity, it seemed. Maybe the only defense I'd ever have against it, so it was good to get in all this practice now, for the future. I was caught off-guard once again by her shy question once she had her fill of me (correction: once we turned blue from lack of air), however: "Do you…really think I'm beautiful?" She smacked herself with her palm and rushed to continue, "Not that I'm fishing for compliments like some daft woman, but you said it and I'm just…a little shocked, I suppose."

I shook my head so hard I nearly made myself dizzy, "You _are_ a daft woman if you're shocked," she pouted cutely, but I kissed her quiet. "You're beautiful and radiant and resourceful and a bunch of other things that you'd hurt me for not saying," I murmured and she graced me with both dimples as she replied.

"I'd never hurt you." The rough pads of her fingertips were tracing patterns on the side of my face as my eyes slid shut; saving those words and feelings in my mind for the rest of eternity.

"Nor I you." We were whispering. I kissed her gently and she sighed happily against me; the moment was too private and golden to tolerate mockery, diametrically opposed from the conversation I'd had days before with Morrigan.

I really needed to figure out the best strategy for telling Aliara that she could use me however she wished, because eventually I would need to compare the taste of her mouth to the taste of her stomach and then her knee, just to be sure that the Maker hadn't forgotten anything important along that path. He did such a nice job with her face that I had to confirm the rest, obviously.

For the Maker. Not for any dirty dirty thoughts I was having about her – every night for months – of course not. For the **Maker's** sake.


	17. Figuring out feelings was hard

**Life was hard when you were struggling to save the world and figure out your feelings at the same time.**

Zevran and I had danced around each other for some time, both of us clearly interested in our leader and both of us in her good graces. I believed myself to be a bit more solidly in Aliara's good graces seeing as I hadn't started out as an assassin but as a comrade with good references. (_Yes, still going on about that. __**Assassin**_!) Leliana made some wide eyes at her, but as interesting as the thought of those two together was, we were clearly the ones in competition here.

Not that she was something to be _won_, but…shut up, we're men. This is what happens when you stick a bunch of us together with someone fascinating! It was like my days in the dormitories of the monastery all over again, the boys aggressively pursuing the best trainers or armor, but with much more at stake: my heart.

Anyway, I had ascertained that Aliara was interested in me – that kissing thing forming most of my proof – but what exactly interested her? I'm very inexperienced and awkward for a grown man, or so I've been told many a time. Zevran, on the other hand, was experienced and smooth. He knew exactly what to do and say to make a woman blush. I, on the other hand, only knew that everything I wanted to say to her made _me_ blush.

Charming, no?

As we traveled about the land, I worried about this more and other days, less. She had found and given me my mother's necklace; thus, she cared enough about me to listen to what I told her and to put some effort into helping me with my problems. When I'd told her about my half-sister, she had exclaimed, "Of course we'll look her up when we get to Denerim!" as though the trip was as important as visiting the Dalish for their aid against the Blight.

Not only that, she and I were side by side for most of our adventures and even in my uncertainty of her romantic interest, I knew that we had formed a close bond in the heat of so many battles together.

We fought as a pair, knowing exactly which enemies needed to be taken out in what order, timing our strikes with rather stunning accuracy, if I do say so myself. As we wandered about Denerim – a place we visited often despite it being the seat of our enemy - I was caught off-guard when Wynne wondered aloud if we read each other's minds while on the battlefield: "You two see enemies and all of a sudden, you're banging your shield over a mage's head and she's cutting the legs out from under archers. How do you two always know where to go, what to do, without even saying it?"

I shrugged, running a hand through my hair, "I just do. I've got all this Templar training, so I'm the best bet against those magic casting beasties. She's so fast with her shield that she can keep archers from being some big threat, especially with how easily they can take you and Leliana down… We just do what feels right when we see the layout of the fight, I guess."

Wynne was shaking her head, "No, Alistair, it's truly more than that. Yes, you see the best tactics necessary for the situation, but she never questions you. Not even for a second. And you always seem to know exactly when she needs backup, when there are just too many beasts or people surrounding her."

Her eyes were gentle and warm as we spoke and I felt a pang in my heart again. I secretly wished at times that Wynne was my true mother. I knew that was _incredibly_ unlikely, but through all the teasing and the mended clothing, we'd formed a closeness that I treasured more than any gold in the world.

"It's the same for you, though, isn't it, Wynne?" She looked curious now, so I continued. "You always seem to know exactly when we need your magics most or when a fight will be too hard on your inner reserves."

"You know," she started slowly, "I never thought of it like that. Leliana and I spoke of the different gifts that the Maker bestows upon people, magic being one of them. I wonder if He hasn't given all of us this gift, coming to know and care for each other so deeply that we know what signs to look for even in the midst of battle?"

"Signs?" I was a bit puzzled by this.

"Yes, Alistair, signs." Lips pursed as she thought, she was clearly trying to find a way to explain herself clearly. "I know when you need healing because you hold your shield differently; a bit closer in and you try to duck your head behind it. Covering your vitals even more tightly than usual. Leliana, well, the poor girl falls over if a darkspawn gives her a mean look, so that's not hard to spot," I had to chuckle, remembering all the times that we'd had to rush to get between Leliana and her pursuers. "Our fearless leader is vocal enough if she wants healing, but sometimes she gets in that hmm…what would you call it?"

No hesitation on that one. "I call it her stupid 'Let's go run at that group of twenty darkspawn!' zone. Crazy foolhardy woman," unable to stop myself from uttering a growl, Wynne chuckled.

"Yes, that is a rather accurate description," she patted my arm consolingly, "If it makes you feel better, she only ever does it when she knows you're right there behind her."

"What?" I wasn't sure if that really ought to make me feel better, considering it gave me a heart attack every time the wench did it.

"Yes, when we were…_obliged_ to bring Oghren with us into the Deep Roads, she didn't once pull that foolhardy stunt. Maybe because **he** kept doing so, but I think it was because she didn't feel so sure of herself without your backup."

She seemed pretty confident of her hypothesis and I couldn't bring myself to doubt her, seeing as it was her job as our healer and mage to know exactly what we were doing at all times. But…my lady depended on me that much to be by her side? "I…really didn't know that. Thank you, Wynne," my voice was softer than I'd meant it to, wanting to seem unfazed by that bit of information, but unable to keep my true feelings hidden.

"Oh, _Alistair_. I think you make her very happy," oh no, was she going to start teasing me after we'd had such a nice conversation? I wasn't going to let her get away with that!

Arms crossed over my chest, I adamantly said, "Not this again. I'm ready this time!"

"I just wanted to say that this was something good, for both of you. Being a Grey Warden isn't easy. I'm glad you found each other," she placed her hand gently on my forearm and I escorted her to a nearby bench, even as I sassed her.

"Oh yes, I bet you are, indeed."

Her eyes admonished me and I felt doubt creeping in to beat my suspicions over the head with a good blunt stick. "Cherish this, Alistair. It may not last."

"And?"

"That's all I had to say," she was fishing out her knitting and shot me another of those fond grandmotherly smiles that I liked so much.

"Really?" I pressed, "No pinching my cheeks? No making me blush?"

A knitting needle came perilously close to my face as she shook it at me. "Of course not. I _like_ you, Alistair. You deserve to be happy."

I knew I had a bashful, goofy smile on my face as she confirmed aloud our comfortable friendship. It was only a few moments later when I found myself pouting, however, "Not even pinching my cheeks a little?"

Wynne's gentle laughter drifted to where Leliana and my love stood browsing Denerim's marketplace and they looked back at us, curious, which only made me laugh with her.

I couldn't keep myself from continuing my earlier thoughts, however informative my conversation with Wynne had been, as soon as we were on the move again. My love listened to everyone's woes and dreams, not just my own. She had searched the flora and fauna of every place we'd visited to find those beautiful flowers that reminded our sad bard of her earliest memories with her lost mother. Maker, she'd done the same for Sten with his sword, Morrigan with that gross grimoire, and Zevran with those leather boots. So, truly, how special _was_ I to her?

That kiss made me **feel** special, even just thinking about it. I could no longer look at her mouth while she spoke to anyone, because the thoughts that came to mind were…distracting. Her eyes weren't much better, though: gleaming as she badgered people for details about even the smallest bits of information. Anything she could find to make things easier for us all. Then she'd turn and smile, happy to share each small victory with me as though she didn't realize that she could fell me with that simple glance faster than any darkspawn axe could.

I don't think she kissed Zevran after she gave him those boots, but he had looked as stunned as I felt when I received the necklace: we were the same in this, never before receiving a gift that showed actual _care_ behind the giving. But she had once been a noblewoman and giving gifts was very much a way to show that you cared for someone, even in a friendly manner. Kisses weren't! Noblewomen were very much not supposed to kiss people unless they were…_oh_. Oh my.

The **future**. What did she think about any future we might have? We might have no future at all, in fact, killed by the Archdemon or far before that, by Loghain. Or possibly Oghren's feet. I might be thrust upon the throne like an unloved toy stuffed into a trunk, unwanted except for the symbolic _I have the best toy in all the world and you don't!_ Eamon may actually love me, like a son even, but he was a nobleman of the highest degree; he had absolutely no problem with setting me up on the throne, even with my Grey Warden status demanding neutrality and even if I had no desire to do so.

Did I truly not want to be king at all or had I merely convinced myself that I would be a failure at it, just as I had been at everything else in my life? There were just too many thoughts running wild in my head, too many scenarios that I couldn't account for.

Aliara was noble and legitimately so, unlike me, so if I were king, we could wed! But we were both Grey Wardens and I had never heard of one giving birth after the Joining, not to mention the whole **losing our surnames** bit, which Eamon was so keen on forgetting. If we lived through this mess, we would probably be seen as heroes – her especially because her very bearing and essence was Heroic, though I might be just a _bit_ biased – but once that victory faded in the minds of the public, would they stand for not just one, but **two** Grey Wardens on the throne of Ferelden?

It was also a little early to be thinking about weddings anyway. And more than a little obsessive to be thinking about them before I even knew how she truly felt. I was pretty good at obsessing over the little things, however! Like last night's supper – the lack of cheese in my diet was starting to become very alarming; I would have to pester Morrigan to buy more the next time she went shopping for foodstuffs!

I realized that we had stopped while Aliara negotiated with some trader about making some armor and saw the concerned looks that Leliana and Wynne were sending my way. With my love distracted, maybe I could ask for some advice! Cheese could wait!

"Leliana," I began, thinking ahead to what I wanted to ask and not exactly paying attention to what I was saying, "you're female, right?"

"I'm what? _Really_? No one's told me that before."

"Well," I didn't want to have to break it to her, but - wait, why did she sound so **tart** just then? _Woops_. "I'm sorry, you know what I mean! You're a woman, you know how they think, right? What would you do if someone told you they loved you?" The words tumbled messily from my mouth and I felt incredibly silly as I waited for her reply.

Her face softened slightly as she asked, "You want to woo her? Here's a good tip: you shouldn't question her about her _female-ness_."

"Yes, right." I was blushing already; this was a _great _idea.

But she was smiling slightly as she continued, "Don't worry so much, Alistair, just be yourself. Women love it when men tell them their feelings." Leliana looked me over as she would a pair of shoes, "Are you afraid that things won't progress naturally?"

"Why would they?" I asked, feeling bitter. "Especially when I do things like ask women if they're _female_."

"It adds to your charm, Alistair. You are a little…awkward. It is endearing." She was smiling and nodding as though this made complete sense.

"So I should be awkward? Didn't you just say not to do things like that?" Women are too confusing! Asking for advice hadn't helped at all and now Wynne was smirking like she always did when I stuck my foot in my mouth. _Argh_!

Then it was too late to continue asking questions, because the one who made me ponder all those damn questions in the first place had turned around to face us, smiling joyously and presenting me with a new helmet. Women were confusing, wicked, and capable of melting my insides with just their beautiful _faces_.

***

We had a set watch schedule every night, though it was easily rotated to give us all something different if we complained. Oghren took the opportunity to complain because it ruined his ability to sleep for twelve uninterrupted drunken hours. Zevran always used it as an excuse to brown-nose: "I could take your watch for you, my lovely Warden, if you required more sleep. _No_? The offer is always on the table…"

_I will not strangle the assassin, no matter how annoying and creepy he is when he looks at her like that_. Years at the monastery had taught me that mantras, like the Chants themselves, could keep you from doing rash things. Like pushing attractive Elven men into firepits.

That night, Morrigan was surprisingly cheery - happy to share her watch with Sten. I shuddered, remembering some of her teasing comments to him about sex.

Another Morrigan Mental Image I never needed. **Great**.

Anyway, our fair leader generally tried to mix people up on the watch schedule. Every night, I sent a brief prayer to the Maker that we would be sharing our watches, but it never seemed to happen. In fact, I _knew_ I wasn't simply imagining it, because Morrigan mocked me about the situation as she and Sten were waking me up for my duty. "I see she's placed you with Wynne again. I think she's just happy to spend time with more capable men in the nighttime, seeing as she's **burdened** with you throughout the day."

I closed my eyes again, hoping that this was just some ill-fated nightmare. I peeked out from behind one eyelid to find her still looming over me, eyes full of disdain. "Closing your eyes doesn't make people invisible, Alistair, no matter **what** the Chantry tells you." Maker, do I _hate_ her voice; snide and cruel.

We both jerked in surprise when another voice interrupted our touching moment, however: "Morrigan, I do believe that your mother taught you shape-shifting and not mind-reading, yes?" My love's voice was short and icily commanding. "Thank you for waking up Alistair for his watch. I will be joining him as Wynne has been feeling a bit off since the spirit holding her up saved her the other day. Sleep well." Her hand entered my vision and I took it without hesitation. You don't look a gift Warden in the mouth, I've heard it said.

"Thank you," I started awkwardly, but she cut me off with a curt shake of her head. I let go of her hand, feeling a bit of cold lodged in my chest as I put on the bare necessities of my plate armor. We didn't have to wear our full adventuring gear, just enough to be ready to kick ass if necessary.

Aliara was prowling quietly around the edge of the camp and I saw her faithful Mabari look up at her, whimpering. She knelt down and scratched behind his ears, his tail thumping so loudly in happiness that I could hear it from where I stood watching. I walked the opposite edge of the camp, telling my heart to shut up as I pretended to be alert. Not that I was still tired, but having her act coldly to me as well as Morrigan made my brain tie itself into knots wondering what it could have done wrong. _I only thought about strangling Zevran a little bit! I didn't even leave wet leaves in his bedroll this time, either!_

"Alistair, I don't think that shrubbery is going to leap up and attack us any time soon. Come over here."

So much for pretense. "Yes, my lady."

"Don't call me that," Aliara grumbled as I gingerly sat beside her. We watched the fire crackle and listened to Oghren's loud snore for long minutes before she spoke again, my mind too busy coming up with insane scenarios of how I'd mucked up to start a conversation. "I'm sorry for…well, I didn't snap at you, but I might as well have."

I wish I could learn how to speak as she did; was it a thing noble folks were taught in noble school? How to say things bluntly and not feel embarrassed at all? "No, it's alright," I forced out, schooling my face into a grin, "Morrigan startled me a bit, so I was probably going to ramble anyway."

I hazarded a glance in her direction, only to quail under the intensity of her sharp eyes. "Alistair, what she said was completely untrue."

"Oh, you…heard that." Great, just what I needed: she would tell me some crappy logical reason and say something like_, It's not you, it's me_.

"Of course I heard that, my tent is right next to yours," her answer was delivered as sharply as the look in her now-narrowed eyes. "You are one of the most capable men I have had the pleasure of fighting with and you shouldn't let that harlot get to you like she does. I only split us up because of, um," was she blushing? She was blushing! "Well, it would be a bit improper if I were to schedule us together as much as I'd like, seeing as uh, well. You know." She made a vague gesture with her hands as though it explained everything.

Needless to say, it explained nothing. "What do you mean?" I simply had to know what she meant. Did she mean that since we had kissed it was inappropriate for us to be alone together? She was a Cousland, practically the noblest of nobles, so I might've offended her sensibilities there… Or did she mean that she wasn't comfortable being near me alone at night? I shifted my weight towards the edge of the log, in case I was offending her, but my face must have given my thoughts away – blast you, face! – because she tugged my arm to her before answering.

"I mean that since you and I have…something going on," she really was blushing and it was absolutely delightful, "that the others might not feel very safe if we were alone together. Uh, since they are _perverts_ and could only imagine one thing happening. Like Zevran. He keeps saying the most lewd things-"

"What?!" I growled at that; was he making her feel uncomfortable about being alone with me? Now I had reason to wring his scrawny Elven neck! "He had best treat you with respect or I'll stick my sword up his-"

"Alistair!" She laughed, a hand keeping my mouth from finishing its threat. "I just mean that he seems to think that we'd – ah. Be amenable to time alone. Together." At my blank glance, she continued. "At night." She was blushing furiously, but sounded exasperated by this point. "_**As lovers**_."

"_Oh_!" My now-melty brain needed a bit of time to recover from her saying that word in relation to us, so I magnanimously allowed my mouth to cover for me in the meantime. "Wow. Well. Um. No, no. You wouldn't…I wouldn't…we aren't…um. Um?"

Those eyes weren't looking so annoyed anymore, but warm and definitely laughing at me. Two killer dimples were my recompense for lost brain cells as I searched her face for answers, finding fondness and joy there. "Alistair, shut up and kiss me."

"Yes, ma'am," I replied quickly, my heart skipping like a giddy schoolgirl as I slid my hand to the back of her head, pulling her smiling lips to mine. I still wasn't sure what we were exactly, but now I had the promise of her voice calling **us** lovers, and I promised myself that I wouldn't let her think of anyone else for that position.

I almost rethought that promise when Wynne started in on me the next morning, of course: "Alistair, may I have a word?"

I was in high spirits, getting in Leliana's way as she made breakfast and trying very hard not to stare at That Which I Stared At Most. "Of course, anything for my favoritest mage!"

She gave me a look that read, _Too early in the morning for flattery, young man,_ before innocently saying: "It seems you and our fearless leader are inseparable these days. Joined at the **hip**, almost."

I nearly fell on my face, keeping my balance by nonchalantly groping a nearby tree. "That's a bit of an overstatement, don't you think?"

"Well then," she said in her most teacherly voice, "now that you're in an intimate relationship, you should learn about where babies really come from."

"Pardon?" I squeaked, the phrase _intimate relationship_ making my heart pound and leap up my throat at the same time as horror set in, which really didn't help so much with the speaking. _I was in an intimate relationship? Why hadn't I been told of this?_

"I know the Chantry says you dream about your babies and the good Fade spirits take them out of the Fade and leave them in your arms..."Wynne paused and shook her finger at me sternly "...but that's not true. Actually, what happens is that when a girl and a boy really love each other-"

"_Andraste's flaming sword_!" I shouted, sure in the knowledge that my head would explode if she got any more technical than that. "I **know** where babies come from!"

"Do you? Do you really?" Wynne cooed and Leliana was giggling so hard that she nearly dropped everyone's breakfast into the fire.

My face was approximately the same color as Leliana's hair, I imagined, as I muttered, "I certainly **hope** so," at the evil woman in front of me.

"Oh, all right then," she said primly, before winking and patting my cheek. "Aww, look, you're all red and mottled. How cute."

I sputtered, "You did that on purpose!"

She mock-frowned and scolded me, her eyes still twinkling. "Now, now Alistair, why would I do such a thing?"

"Because you're **wicked**. That frail old lady act? I'm so not fooled. I'm on to you now," I fumed, pointing accusingly at her. I heard stifled chuckles behind me and cringed, physically and mentally. "Aliara's…right behind me, isn't she?"

Wynne's grin was evil and wicked in the few seconds I saw it before our fearless leader stood up on her toes to place a kiss on the corner of my mouth. "Good morning," came the happy statement before she gave me a proper show of affection to make up for my public torture session.

"Perhaps you should draw them a diagram," Sten grunted (_**unhelpfully**_, in my opinion) from the fire, handing Wynne a stick. "They may need it. He is young and foolish and she is reckless. We need them to lead us against the Archdemon; it wouldn't do for them to get hurt."

Aliara barely batted an eye when facing a _Broodmother_, but even my love looked disturbed at the idea of a Wynne and Sten diagram-driven explanation of intimacy.

_Creepy_.


	18. Life with crazy women was very hard

Author's Note: Hello again!

I still don't own most of the characters or settings, but I do own a lot of chocolate. The two may seem to have nothing to do with each other, but let me assure you: eating chocolate and writing fluffy Alistair moments have the same effect on me!

This chapter in particular may not be the best, but it is in fact devoted to my very dearest and closest friend, who is having a very rough time right now. We're both awkward and silly, but more than anything, hopeful that things will turn out alright. Because sometimes that's all you can do.

Responses and criticisms are, as always, greatly encouraged. Thank you for reading.

* * *

**Life with a bunch of crazy women, pets, and assassins was hard.  
**

But rewarding! I got a kiss every day, sometimes more for good – or maybe it was _bad _– behavior. Wynne, however, was so worried about us having responsibilities as Grey Wardens and trying to have a relationship at the same time that she unwisely decided to give Aliara some "words of wisdom" about love being selfish and how sacrificing every possible joy in your entire life was the only way to get things done sometimes. Or that was the gist of it.

My love was so angry she sliced a tree in half during her usual morning calisthenics. She also made Morrigan join us in our travels to save some refugees from Lothering, which…was _not_ the best choice. Morrigan thought the exercise was pointless and made her opinions clear the entire day; even after we had saved the refugees, she muttered about the uselessness of the side-trip. When Aliara finally exploded, fed up with snarky comments and cold refusals to heal the injured, I watched as Morrigan physically flinched at the cold words thrown at her. For once, I actually sympathized with her; Morrigan hated stopping and helping every person along our way across Ferelden, but that was only because she was determined to end the Blight as quickly as possible. I didn't _agree _with her, but I could respect and understand how she felt unlike most everything **else **she said.

Needless to say, the day ended with Morrigan close to _tears_, Wynne hiding in Bodahn's wagon, and Oghren mostly sober, because Aliara had thrown all of his alcohol into our _campfire_. All the alcohol that she could find, at least.

The group ganged up on me after a deathly silent dinner. "Alistair," Sten grunted, as though asking _me _for something was paining him or somehow offensive to the Qun, "you must speak with her. Now."

"What? Why should I speak to her? Wynne's the one that pissed her off and Morrigan…didn't help. _There's_ a surprise," I grumbled.

Zevran was lounging suspiciously nearby, idly cleaning his nails, but said nothing as Sten glared and nodded to our bard. Leliana quickly took up the torch: "You know that she will always listen to you, Alistair. Go try to calm her down before everyone starts to get nervous, please?"

I tried to resist, but she was making a passable attempt at my puppy face. "You cheater. Women aren't allowed to use puppy eyes against men! The fairer sex already has breasts, which is such an **un**fair advantage," I pouted, hoping to change the subject.

"Ah, Alistair, how will I ever teach you the fine art of seducing women if you think of breasts as a weapon?" Zevran purred lazily. "But did you know that angry women are the easiest of all to seduce? I may have to go…_speak_ with our fine leader myself."

If my foot _accidentally_ kicked some burning embers onto his sneaky Antivan leathers as I rushed to where I'd last spotted Aliara, then I could apologize later. Or, you know, **not at all**.

Damn **trollop**!

When I'd reached a rather thick part of the wood and still hadn't found her, I called out: "Aliara? Where are you-u-u-u-u?"

I poked my sword into a few shrubs, just in case she'd decided to play Hide and Seek on me or something, until I heard a muffled chuckle from above. "Hey! What are you doing up there, my lady?" I couldn't help but grin; she was safe and had even chuckled, so that had to be a good sign.

"I am hiding, of course," Aliara answered promptly, making no move to leave her sturdy tree branch. "I always used to hide in trees when I got angry with my family or if I thought they were angry at me. It seemed…_right_ after how I behaved today."

"I might not be the best judge of good behavior, but I think you had every reason to be grumpy. Do you mind if I join you up there? I haven't climbed a tree in years!"

I could just make out her shy smile amidst the tree's leaves: "Of course you can join me, Alistair. Just watch your sword, please."

"Hmph," I grumbled loudly, "now you're even trying to tell me how to use my sword? I think I've had plenty of practice, thank you very much!"

I was too busy climbing the tree to see her expression, but the sly note in her voice made me blush. "Yes, Oghren's been talking about you and your sword-polishing habits. He seems to think that you've got some very strange notions about the whole thing."

"I hate you," I grumbled as I swatted a particularly annoying branch out of my path. "He's always drunk and perverted, so I thought he was making another, what's that called again? Oh, yes, euphemism. So I blame my confusion entirely upon him!"

Aliara was laughing as I carefully took my seat on a thick branch near to hers. "Just admit it, Alistair, you're a bit of a pervert yourself."

I felt a bit shaky, precariously seated on the branch with one arm tucked around another to keep me balanced, but her grin was making this spot more comfortable and warm than I would've expected. "Dear lady," I intoned gravely, "I will never admit to such a despicable thing! I am the essence of gentlemanly…ness and prudery. I have never had a single perverted thought in my life."

"Oh, I'm sure you haven't," her grin was wicked now, which was equal parts exciting and alarming. "You would never have thoughts like strangling Zevran or watching Leliana and I bathe together. Of course not. I'm so sorry that I accused you of such."

"Yes, yes, you should be very sorry. In fact, you could apologize for telling me when you and Leliana next plan on bathing…" I joked. Well, mostly joked. If she did tell me, I might fall off the tree, but the concussion would be _so worth it_. _Cold baths for the rest of my life_.

"You are such a gentleman that I assume you would use the information to keep the possible perverts away, I imagine." She winked at me and I knew that a grin had taken over my face. "But I must refuse to give out such information in case some sneakier people might be listening. So did they send you out here to calm me down?"

"Huh," the recoil from that abrupt subject change nearly knocked me off my seat. "Yes, they did. I told them that Wynne or Morrigan should come out to speak with you since they're the offense witches that got you riled up in the first place, but they're all chickens. I'm the only brave one of the bunch," I caught her disbelieving look as I sighed dramatically.

"Oh yes, you are a very brave man…except when it comes to facing any of the women you're camped out with."

"Hey," I objected, "it's not my fault that you're all very scary. Different kinds of scary, of course, but still _scary_. Do you want to talk about it?" If she could change subjects with no regards to finishing conversations, then so could I!

She blinked. "Well, sure. I…understand why she said what she said," I pitied the tree as she spoke, gripping it so tightly that I hoped she wouldn't break it. "But it just seems like we have a hard time of things right now, to say the least, and a bit of hope and well…" ah, a blush! "It seems that sabotaging a relationship that could help both of us through all this is…really stupid."

I hazarded reaching towards her, to grasp one of her hands in my own. "It is really stupid, but you know that she was just looking out for both of us. Things are crazy right now and maybe she just doesn't want either of us to get our hopes up when everything could fail at any point or either of us could get hurt-"

Now I pitied the bones in my hand. "No, Alistair, that is the **point**." Aliara sounded fierce and I would've known that determined face from any distance. "We have to have hope. It's the only way that we can keep going and fix everything. Undermining that hope is something I won't allow, just as I won't allow failure. We will fix things and we will make it through all this regardless of the odds. I won't have it any other way."

I had to chuckle at that: "This is how I know you're really a noblewoman, when you say things like, 'I won't allow the Blight to stop me from wickedly seducing you.'" Her tight grip eased as she joined me in laughter. "I think that the hope you have is what keeps us all going, together," I admitted. "You're a good leader and an excellent person, but I think what really makes you special is that you never give up and never let us give up, either. I think you should explain that to Wynne and maybe it'll give her the hope that she needs."

I froze when I heard a sniffle. "Alistair, I don't know what I'd do without you," Aliara whispered. I could see that she wasn't crying easily enough, but her eyes did look a bit watery.

"I…I know that I wouldn't be able to do any of this without you," I responded, feeling my heart climb up my throat as it liked to do when I wanted to say something important. _You're not helping, stupid heart! _"I can't imagine a life without you anymore. What I said, about your hope, it…it keeps me going. After Duncan, after everything that's happened, I can't imagine being without you anymore than-than being without air." Though the obstruction in my throat was proving exactly what life without air would be like.

Aliara was just staring at me, wordless and unmoving except for the gentle rhythm of her breathing, and I panicked. "Is that too soon?" I heard the anxiety in my voice and cringed; Maker, I'm such a baby sometimes!

"No," she breathed and I realized that her staring hadn't been blank but awed. "No, never too soon, Alistair." There was a squeeze of my hand as she quickly darted forward to press her lips to mine; the kiss chaste and quick, but just as beautiful as any of the others we'd shared. "Let's get down from this tree, I need to kiss you properly, you wonderful man."

"There's an order I don't need to hear twice to obey," I grinned, content with the world and myself.

I clambered down the tree and landed in a surprisingly graceful manner back on solid ground. Aliara followed suit and soon I had her in my arms, grinning as she frowned and pulled leaves out of my hair. I didn't want to point out that she had been up in that tree longer than I had as well as having longer hair because she looked adorable with an errant branch peeking out from behind one of her ears. It was times like these when I could imagine us together in a world at peace that made me want to fight harder to end this Blight, to end Loghain's impending civil war.

But then she held up her promise of a proper kiss; it was tender and a moment so beautiful that I wished I could paint it or put it into song like Leliana could. I had kissed her plenty of times by then, but each time felt just as new and exciting as the first. I savored each one, hoping as she hoped that there would never in my life be a day without them.

We weren't as nervous anymore about the rest of our bodies touching and feeling her heart pounding just below mine was wonderful. If I ever thought there was a lie in her smile or words, I'd know the truth from the honesty of her heart, her eyes, her hands. Those hands were rough and blunt, just like the rest of her, but she used them so gently on me that I wondered if I could actually die of bliss.

_ What a good way to go that would be, Maker. I know if we even survive this Blight business that thirty years down the line I'm supposed to die honorably in a dark, dank cave to some nasty darkspawn, but maybe You could just let me have a heart attack while she touched me, instead? I'll be a good boy forever if You do!_

_ Okay, maybe that's a stretch. I've never been very good at being…good my entire life. But people can change or pretend to change, right? Right?!_

A man can dream!

Wynne apologized that night after we returned to camp, but it was obvious that her worries had been for my sake. She felt that if something were to happen, it would inevitably be _me_ that would wind up getting hurt. I was touched by her concern, but it was unnecessary; I would risk being hurt in the future a thousand times over for any one of the kisses we had shared. Any one of the times that Aliara had comforted me or I her. If I had learnt one thing on this ridiculously perilous journey of ours, it was that a little hope could accomplish far more than anyone would suspect was possible.


	19. Life was hard and so was I

**Life was hard.**

But honestly, I'm pretty sure I was harder.

Yes, I mean the _perverted _kind, the _**base** _and _**lowly** _kind.

I still hadn't avenged Duncan and I still didn't have a family, but my love was accompanying me to visit the half-sister I had learnt and dreamt of. So maybe things could **change**.

I had friends now, of a sort; Zevran was actually exceptionally funny and very useful– except when he stared so…**luridly** at Aliara and her delightful assets. She only rolled her eyes at us when we bickered about it, but it was definitely nice having Zevran around in Denerim instead of Leliana, if only because then we men finally had a chance against the cruel tyranny of women!

Though, in truth, Wynne and our Fearless Leader were more than a match for us. Zevran couldn't horrify Wynne with tales of debauchery without her horrifying _**both of**** us**_ in turn with **her** tales while my Lady only needed to Look at me and I fell down at her feet like a house of cards on a shaky table. They had us, stones firmly in hand, but it was nice to have the **illusion** of equality, at least.

Plenty of _assets_ to stare at, at least; no illusions **there**. _Mmm_.

Though I was disturbed by Zevran's fascination with Wynne's bosom. _Eurgh_. The woman was at least old enough to be his mother; couldn't he show her a bit of respect?!

The trip to see my sister – _gold-digging harridan_ – was a complete bust. But Aliara defended me within that woman's home, even let me give a portion of our communal funds to the nasty woman; I knew that she'd helped Leliana with problems from her past, had found Sten's lost Qunari sword, reunited Wynne with her long lost apprentice, and defeated Flemeth for Morrigan's sake.

But had she ever held them as they stood shaking outside the door of the only family they thought existed? Ever shielded them from the stares of others while she calmed them down with honest words of devotion? She never told any of them: "You can't always choose the family you're born to, Alistair, but someday you'll have a loving family of your own. I **know** it. Don't give up for that harpy's sake, please."

None of them loved her to the depths that I did, I knew that with such certainty that there was little else in this world that could stand up to the truth of it. No one believed in me as Aliara did and no one would ever get to take my place at her side if I had anything to say about it. She promised me that we would walk down the Deep Roads together at the end of our lives and I was going to hold her to that promise if I had to strangle the Archdemon myself to make it so.

***

Denerim was a very busy place for us but I had to agree with Zevran's suspicions about Master Ignacio; the idea of doing jobs for the Antivan Crows was rather off-putting to me. "You know they tried to _kill_ us, right?"

"**Tried** being the operative word, Alistair. No offense, Zevran," I had to laugh at the unapologetic smile she flashed his way.

Zevran only shrugged and grinned in return, flippantly saying that he was a much better mascot for Grey Wardens than an assassin for the Crows.

But Aliara's reasoning was as sound as always and our suspicions were unfounded just this once: the Crows could refuse to take a contract up against her and any of us again if we helped them out satisfactorily,after all. She admitted that and more to me later that night, as we rested on an incredibly comfortable sofa before one of the jobs they had presented us with; to save a boy from Arl Howe of all things. Even the Crows do good work for the right price, I suppose. But what she admitted shook me. With Eamon pulling his political strings for a Landsmeet, she was worried about Loghain hiring assassins for **me**. "I would kill them all with no mercy, Alistair, but what if they went after someone you loved instead? If they went after Goldanna or Eamon to get you to back down?"

I wanted to smooth the worriedly crinkled skin above her nose and the words fell out of my mouth as I was distracted. "Or you," I whispered.

"Or me," Aliara agreed. She agreed! But she wasn't speaking any longer and there was a light in her eyes that would be the death of me, I'm sure of it. "Or _me_, Alistair? Are you saying you love me?"

The words again slipped out of my mouth as though it were the most natural thing in the world: _"_Yes**.** **Yes**, I love you, Aliara. I've loved you for months and I'm no good at any of this…being near you makes me _crazy_ and I've told you this before but I can't imagine being without you. Not _ever_."

My insides were twisting around like they were trying to crawl out my ears before I said something stupid and embarrassing and ruined _**everything**_: "I love you and I'm ready. For…loving you. I mean, _Maker_, I've never done this before and I'll probably be rubbish but you know that. I want to be with you before" – my eyes clenched shut as I tried to imagine what could part us; the thought too painful to endure until I started painfully. What did _she_ think about all of this? "Wait! How do you feel… about _me_?" I remembered to breathe before she spoke, in case I needed to take a running leap out the nearest window.

I had somehow ended up kneeling before her. She was still sitting on a couch in our personal common area of the Gnawed Noble Tavern; she'd rented rooms for us while we took care of business in Denerim. There was a whole floor just for us, she had said, so that we could **_finally _**enjoy a night in soft beds. We had all pressured her to take the largest room, with Zevran winking and saying: "You should invite someone into it while you have such a large bed at your disposal to romp around in."

_Was it __**his**__ fault that I'm propositioning her like this?!_ Aliara had only blushed beautifully and not looked me in the eye as she told us all to gather for supper. _Zevran put these dirty thoughts in my mind! He must have used Blood Magic!_

_Oh no, time to kill him, then, __**how**__** sad**__!_

"Alistair, stop thinking about Zevran and listen to me, you silly bugger." Aliara has a very sexy commanding voice, you see. It made always doing as she asked very easy.

I looked up, head nearly in her lap and one of my hands circled around her knee while she held the other to her heart. In spite of that sexy commanding tone, Aliara was all soft beauty in the light of the fireplace. _Maker, be praised._ She was smiling, as brightly as when I'd given her our rose and told her I loved her – though apparently it hadn't gotten through quite as I would have liked.

"Good, attention back on me, then," _impish wench_. "No good to have you finally saying 'I love you' and asking me to bed with you only to have you thinking after **Zevran**. I'm never letting you two pitch tents near one another _again_." She sounded so flippant that my heart started to ache, but at the same time she was stroking my face and neck to distraction, so maybe her heart felt just as light and floaty as my own?

"I love you with all my heart, Alistair." I saw stars. My mind finally shut down with joy and the stars were some kind of side-effect of immense hope-love-joy brainless ecstasy. Or permanent mental damage. _Who cares_!

"And if you don't come to bed with me," she was saying tenderly, short brown hair falling into her face as she leaned down to kiss my forehead, "I will be quite sore with you."

She pulled me up off the floor, close to her face and I was **obeying** because that's what a proper sidekick does, you see. I am **hers** as she is **mine**, but she was **teasing** me, not letting me kiss her, just to say: "Though if you do come to my bed, I suppose I will be sore _because_ of you instead, hmm?"

Aliara couldn't be allowed to smirk at me with both dimples and wicked eyes or with words even more wicked when she had just told me she **loved** me. "Not right at all," I was grumbling as she giggled and our mouths caught fire on one another. "Trying to kill me with that mouth of yours, my love. Not right _at_ _all_." My own mouth found a sensitive spot on her neck and she grasped my waist tightly as she shivered.

"I have much better plans for you **and** my mouth than killing, Alistair." Ah, yes, if I weren't already so blindingly aroused, I probably would've fainted at that.

Or maybe I did faint and she just politely pretended that I hadn't, to assuage my manliness. Just another thing to love her for!

"Right. To your bed before we cause a scene right here because of your mouth." I was moaning and trying to talk at the same time and her **eyes** – they were so dark and unfathomable it was like she was stealing my heart all over again.

_But you can't very well steal what's already yours,_ my mouth whispered to her skin once we had finally moved to where I'd wanted to be my entire life. _I'm yours, all yours,_ I told her ribs. _I don't have any practical knowledge but _– I conversed pleasantly with her hips – _I have my __**spirit**_. My hands were telling her _I can't believe how beautiful and strong you are_ as they slid up her legs.

Her body was enlightening me as I finally tasted the secrets the Maker had hidden upon it. Her hands were informing my shoulders _I love how broad you are_ and her feet were scandalizing my calves with _I love how warm you are_. _Your heart is beating so fast, but so is mine,_ her mouth murmured gently to my chest. _You taste like sunlight and strawberries,_ her wicked tongue explained reasonably.

I've never felt so loved and wanted in my entire life. And when her voice began to tell the world **exactly** who was making her feel the same, I'd never felt so smug and successful before, either. _I love you,_ our bodies hummed together, in sync in this as in everything else.

Truth be told, after that experience, I'll never understand how people call it "sleeping together." We did no such thing until morning began to peek into our room through the window and her head was snuggled under my chin, hair tickling my neck; sweaty, sated, **mine**.

Aliara was softly caressing my arm, which was wrapped tightly around her so my own hand could bury itself in the curve of her neck, and I was shivering, catching her tireless fiend of a hand and bringing it to my lips for a kiss. My other hand was poking and prodding her to turn again, to face me, and she did so gracefully, letting her free hand wander over my face, to trace the smile she found waiting there. "My heart really must be strong to survive a night with you," I told her, quite serious.

She laughed, happily pulling me back over her for a kiss; and if kissing her while _dressed _is enough to send me praying to the Maker, I can't even begin to describe what kissing her while covered only in our _skin_ is like.

Of course, the knock on our door nearly ruined our intimate morning, more intrusive than the soft light of dawn, but Aliara was sweetly kissing my neck and notified me firmly that she would rip off my arm and beat me to death with it if I didn't ignore whosoever dared to knock at her door while she was busy. "As my love commands," I demurred, happily tracing the solid muscles of her abdomen. I had accidentally discovered that she was slightly ticklish right _there_ and I was determined to make her laugh and gasp with pleasure at the same time.

A man's got to have some goals in life, you know.


	20. Traveling with peeping toms was hard

Author's Note: Hello there!

Sorry for tricking you with implied sexy-times, but I love a bit of suggestive innuendo. I do have a sexier sex scene written out, but I need my Purple Prose editor to okay it before I show it to the masses! This is for your own good, of course. ;P I was still nervous posting what I did post and it wasn't even explicit! Eek! So please send some criticism my way, lovelies.

Also, apologies for a bit of an extended "vacation"; life just gets crazy sometimes, doesn't it? Let's all quit our day jobs and write pron all day! Yay!

A Disclaimer: I still don't own the characters or setting. Sadly. I maybe own the imagined second (third? fourth?!) floor of the Gnawed Noble Tavern, but that is so stretching it. :P

**Life was hard when you had the love of a good woman and a room full of peeping toms.**

The sun had given up on its voyeurism by the time we were leaving the bedroom. Unfortunately for us, our companions were not as weak-willed as the sun in this regard and were anticipating our instincts for survival to kick in eventually; we had used up a lot of energy and needed some food, especially with our Grey Warden metabolism. They were ready, waiting to pounce as soon as the door betrayed our confidence by **creaking**.

_I will be speaking to your manager about this_, I thought sternly at it. Its only response was to rudely open widely, revealing the eager, demonic faces awaiting their prey.

"This is going to be fun," I coughed to my partner in love, battle, and crime. Aliara wasn't intimidated by their vulture-like positions, of course, merely striding into the room as though she **owned** it. Which she did, actually, considering she's the one who paid for it, but it is very hard to ignore the way those hips moved when she walked so purposefully.

(She walked purposefully all the time, but I sometimes chose to ignore this simple fact because I just like having an excuse to look at her posterior. Not that I needed an excuse anymore, but **still**. I am a Grey Warden and I must be vigilant and cautious at all times! **Especially** when watching bottoms.)

Everyone had gone silent as the door ratted us out and no one dared speak until our leader did, throwing an exasperated look for all to catch as she dryly commanded: "First smart comment and I feed you all to the darkspawn."

I nearly had tears in my eyes as I reverently whispered to her, "See? _This_ is why I love you." She sighed, but smiled happily at me before heading to the outer door.

A dutiful chorus of _Yes ma'am_'s was heard before the door clicked shut behind her, sealing my **doom**. I swear I could hear every head in that room turning to lock their creepy-eyed gazes at me.

I think Sten actually twisted his huge neck off to manage it.

I wondered where, strategically, the best place would be – to **hide**. I may be a Grey Warden and Sidekick to the best damn Hero ever, but I'm not stupid. I couldn't take these beasts on by myself.

Hell, I couldn't even take them on with an **army**.

There was a spot between Wynne and Leliana but they were giving me the most deviously innocent looks I'd ever seen, and that was enough to make me consider just making the Archdemon spend five minutes with them teasing him; he'd rethink this whole _Destroy the World_ plan and instead go the route of _Run Away_! I really needed to discuss this plan with my fellow Warden the next time we spoke. Which likely wouldn't be for a while as she was getting enough food to feed all of us – and because I simply wasn't sure I could survive her talking now that I'd survived her _not-talking_. They were both very dangerous modes for my heart to deal with; not-talking implied sexy time while talking implied teasing me about aforementioned sexy time.

I think my catatonic state inspired the others to speak again, because there was murmuring and Looks. I realized now I was nervous not because they would tease me, but because maybe they would tell her how I stood **frozen** the entire time she was gone; how I was a coward and not good enough for her and try to convince her to jump **Zevran** instead.

That was enough to get me moving and shouting. Embarrassing shouting, in fact, something along the lines of: "So which of you is going to tease me first? Let's just get it out of the way already!"

Incredibly stupid move on my part: _Now we're __**inviting**__ them to tease us_? At least I knew who to blame for ruining what was left of my brain.

Morrigan was smirking now and holding out her hand, onto which Sten and Wynne were grumpily placing coins. I suppose my confusion gave them a small bit of joy, because they informed me everyone had placed bets as to how long I could stand the silence. Zevran had timed me. _Traitor_!

Turns out I only lasted _five minutes_ before shouting like a **loon**. Wynne had bet two minutes and Sten had bet an hour. I was feeling warmly towards him for once until he explained his reasoning: "You heard the yelling last night, he certainly proved his stamina to…most of Denerim." His disapproving glare at me for losing him money had me almost wetting myself.

Wynne was retorting with: "Stamina he has, certainly, but don't forget his _spirit_. He has as much tolerance for silence as a five year old girl at a party!"

Now I was pouting. "Five year old girl? Isn't that a little cruel, even for you?"

From Leliana's corner of this horrific arena came: "Yes, he didn't _sound_ like a five year old girl last night, he sounded quite manly. I only stuck with Morrigan's bet because I thought she would hex him before he even walked out the door and then none of us would have to pay up. Gambling is a sin in the Maker's eyes, you know." Her rationale wasn't helping much, either.

_ "_So, did you take my advice, my knightly friend?" Zevran was going to get punched in the face if he kept turning his seducer eyes on me; I was a taken man now! "You know, the thing with the tongue I told you about? Even beginners can catch on to that trick rather quickly and women do _love_ it so…"

_Yes_, I decided, _jumping out the window was a very good life choice_. We were only on the second floor, so I would likely only break one or two bones. I wasn't in the state of mind to avoid any injuries, but I was willing to take one for the team. The team being my _mental_ _health_.

"We already know that he's got plenty to use, so I don't see how my advice could hurt him," Zevran was arguing patiently with Leliana, who retorted with: "But new lovers should discover each other's bodies for themselves without the taint of other people's knowledge!"

"Only if they don't want to _orgasm_, Leliana, and we all know that without that, sex is just about making tiny, squalling people. I am quite positive that neither of them was hoping to make children last night." Zevran sounded a bit too comfortable discussing what exactly I had been doing behind locked doors.

Defense mechanism engaged!

"La la la, I can't **hear** any of you!" I howled, in my manliest of manly tones, while covering my ears with both hands.

"I thought I told all of you not to break him and that I would be very irate with you if you did as such!" My **savior**!

Ooh and **lunch**! Aliara nearly had an entire wheelbarrow full of food that she shoved into the door. "Please, people, don't all help at once." Ah, her tart voice enraptured me; I floated across the room to move the burden for her, smiling like a fool the entire time, no doubt.

She was grinning at me, though, and it was rather hard to hate everyone else in the room when she looked so happy. "See? My advice helped. She's glowing; looks like she had an **excellent** night. Or maybe I mean _Knight_, yes?"

A metal container full of hot water **might** have fallen out of my hands and onto Zevran's stupid lap as he punned. **Maybe**.

His high-pitched shriek of pain was _so_ worth the scolding I received. So was the enormous blush on my paramour's face when I suggested that she spank me in punishment and the laughter of all our friends as she calmly told me to hold still while she got her shield for the spanking. The laughter I heard in the distance as I was already running away like a scared little girl.

Like I said, I'm not **stupid**.

It was my turn to blush when I came back an hour later to find Morrigan looking shocked and giving me the once-over as my lover made a hand gesture that I'm sure indicated a specific **length**. "Where does he hide it?" made me bash my head on the nearest wall, however.

I will never **ever** live that down. When I asked Wynne to help me darn the holes in my clothes, she asked me – I will never think of grandmothers as innocent _**ever again**_ – if she needed to sew extra material into the front of my pants, if maybe they were a bit too tight for my _needs_.

**Women**!


End file.
